


Twisted Death

by LegendaryBiologist13



Category: Gungrave
Genre: Action, Blood and Gore, Child Death, Dark, Death in Childbirth, Drama, Family, Gen, Major Character Injury, Mental Health Issues, Miscarriage, Monsters, Murder Mystery, Platonic Relationships, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Red Herrings, References to Drugs, Schizophrenia, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Seinen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:52:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 23
Words: 65,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LegendaryBiologist13/pseuds/LegendaryBiologist13
Summary: [GGAM - GoaL] Dr. William Rutherford worked as Brandon "Beyond the Grave" Heat's caretaker after Dr. Tokioka's death. It was a job that made William a respectable person in Millennion organization since Brandon was the organization's top, yet handicapped enforcer.One year later, William's brother Dr. Bernard Rutherford died in a car crash. People said that they saw a necrolyzed dog before the crash, but Brandon believed it was more than that. With more members of Rutherford family dying, Brandon thought another organization was involved.For his caretaker's sake and Millennion's safety, Brandon decided to investigate the case.





	1. The Murder Begins

**Author's Note:**

> Part of Guardian of a Lifetime series, the fourth sub-series of Gungrave: Aftermath. Set after Of Debt Bondage and Determination.

Funeral. An event held by the living to tell the departed that they never died unloved. Having visited this ceremony countless times and even been inside a casket before returning as an undead man - a necrolyzer, Brandon knew it better than any human did.

Two little girls stood before Dr. Bernard's coffin, drawing Brandon's attention with their loud cries. Death and reanimation had actually taken away most of his feelings, but he couldn't help it. With a lump building up in his throat, he recalled what he saw in the hospital yesterday.

The last time Brandon visited Bernard in the ICU, he knew there was no more hope for the poor man. Bernard lay still on his bed, his head bandaged and his breathing aided by a mechanical ventilator. Although the monitor indicated that his vital signs were fine, judging from the man's condition alone, Brandon knew they would decline sooner or later.

About thirty-six hours after the car crash, Bernard finally passed.

Brandon approached the little girls and gave them a hug, yet they kept bawling as though he never came to comfort them at all. Ambling away from them and towards Mika, he looked down at the loamy soil. Poor kids... Now, they only had their mother left.

 _The town of Billion shows no mercy to children_ , Brandon thought. Mika Asagi, his fourteen-year-old adoptive child, came to him for that reason. When the undead infested the town last year, her mother and butler sacrificed themselves to buy her enough time to reach him. They knew he was one of those monsters, but because he had made a promise to protect the Asagi family before his death, they believed he'd make a good guardian to Mika.

He turned out to be a damn good one. Mika often thought of him as the father she'd never had, although she preferred calling him by his name.

Amid the quiet sobs coming from the girls, he heard Mika tell Christina, "We're sorry for your loss, Ma'am."

Christina nodded, wiping the tears from her eyes with a kerchief. "Thank you."

Unable to think of the right words, Brandon only patted Christina on her shoulder and gave her a reassuring smile. The grieving woman's lips took a slight upturn in response, which delighted him.

The wind blew harder as Brandon and Mika turned around and walked towards another cluster of people in black. The thick gray clouds moved to conceal the sun. If necrolyzation - the technology of raising the dead - hadn't killed his sense of smell, he'd have detected the fresh, earthy scent around.

Brandon approached the crowd, where Biscoe stood beside Dr. William - Bernard's younger brother - and placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. For an ordinary Millennion mafioso, a mob boss warming up to his underling would look strange. Heck, the old man didn't even speak to Bernard's wife or kids. However, William was, like Brandon, a valuable asset to the Mafia. Without him, Brandon would've decayed to nothingness last year, and if that had happened, the organization would've never had a tough undead fighter by their side.

Recently, more and more scientists in Millennion had learned how to sustain a necrolyzer's body properly, but William had never lost his status as one of the Mafia's notable people. After all, he had the most experience in taking care of a reanimated corpse.

 _And the longer you stay in the Mafia without breaking any rules, the more trustworthy and precious you are to the higher-ups, especially if you are a brilliant person,_ Brandon recalled. _But once you break a rule after gaining such a good rep, you will shake up the entire organization. It's like betraying your best friend._

"Be strong," Biscoe told William, his voice muffled through the nearby chatter.

The tearful William replied with a nod.

Brandon sauntered closer to the weeping doctor. Noticing his presence, Biscoe stepped aside and asked, "You no longer need a walking stick?"

Brandon shook his head. Although deep, those gashes on his thighs only took two days to heal. A stray necrolyzer couldn't possibly have the equipment to inflict serious damage upon his body.

Nodding, Biscoe rubbed his bushy mustache. "I see."

Brandon pulled William into his one-armed embrace. He knew William was sad, but not knowing how to console a grieving adult with words, he would only give him a big hug.

From beside- no, _below_ him, Mika spoke for him, "You've got many friends, Doc."

"But something still bothers me," William murmured. "There was a hellhound on the loose."

 _A hellhound?_ Eye widening, Brandon released William from his hug. How was that possible? Dr. Charles, the creator of the undead dog, had long died, and Brandon had plundered his lab. The healed gashes were the proof of the successful raid.

But most importantly, why hadn't anybody told him about those undead beasts? Brandon might be a loan shark in Millennion, but having no clients during the summer holidays, he'd gladly contribute to the Mafia by working as an enforcer.

"Doc, I've ordered my men to investigate that case since you first told us about it," Biscoe said. "Unfortunately, there was no trace of hellhounds in Billion."

"That's strange. Everybody around the car crash saw that mad dog."

"My men didn't find anything."

Perhaps Biscoe's men didn't search the town properly. Brandon understood why; a necrolyzed being could easily rip a human apart and break one's morale after all.

"You should've let me join the investigation, Sir," Brandon grumbled, staring down at Biscoe. "Let a necrolyzer deal with another necrolyzed being."

"And harm that injured necrolyzer in process? Not a chance, Brandon." Biscoe folded his arms over his chest. "When we got the news, you hadn't completely recovered yet."

Brandon growled. Biscoe had always used his injuries as an excuse to not assign him to a task, and if he had somehow rebelled, the mob boss would use Mika against him. Ask him if he loved his child and would never leave her alone, and he would back down almost in an instant.

If he could regrow his lost left arm and right leg, maybe Biscoe wouldn't be that protective of him. Never mind his lost eye; nobody cared much about it because his acute hearing more than made up for it.

"It's not good to make your little girl worry. Besides, all the agents came home unscathed. If there was really a hellhound, do you think they'd return in one piece?"

Brandon could only sigh.

* * *

Two days passed. Biscoe had, much to Brandon's delight, assigned him to guard the lab as the scientists conducted a research on the expired necrolyzation serum. Vials of that green fluid came from Charles' abandoned lab, and rumor said that they had turned a skinny hobo into a green-skinned giant.

With that in mind, Millennion scientists fed some of the serum to a dog before killing it. So far, the mutt hadn't sprung back to life yet. Although Brandon had preferred waiting for the beast to rise, Dr. Douglas had told him to go home. Like Biscoe, he'd used Mika against him.

Fortunately, Brandon hadn't received any emergency calls throughout the night.

Today, he would go to the lab again, but Dr. Zach had to remove his transfusion set first. Sitting on the armchair in his little trailer, he watched the doctor apply a band-aid on his hand.

"I've given you ten bags of whole blood today, so you won't need any therapy again this week." Zach stood up with the used gloves and transfusion set in his hands. "But if you're seriously injured in the next few days, you'll need another therapy."

"Well, let's just hope for the best, Doc," Mika told Zach. "Brandon's job is dangerous, but I always pray for his safety."

"Hmph, silly girl." Zach threw the garbage into the trash can. "It's impossible for someone to come home unscathed forever."

Brows furrowing, Mika yelled, "Shut up! You've been repeating that line over and over again since you replaced Dr. William!"

Zach eyed Brandon for a moment before looking back at Mika. "If he hadn't been here, I'd have slapped you, insolent kid." He approached the trailer's metallic desk, on which his briefcase lay. "Brandon, you really need to teach this brat to mind her manners."

Brandon gave the doctor a death glare, snarling with his fangs bared. _Likewise, I'd have ripped your jaw off if you hadn't worked as my temporary caretaker._

"You aren't better. No wonder why your kid is like that." Opening the trailer's door with his briefcase in his hand, the doctor glanced at Brandon. "Well, give me a shout whenever you need me." He stepped out of the trailer and closed the door.

"What an annoying doctor!" Mika crossed her arms, glaring at the door. "I thought all doctors are nice people, but I was very wrong."

Brandon nodded, recalling what Biscoe told him a while back. _"If Zach had behaved well like our other scientists,"_ the mob boss said, _"I might have chosen him as your caretaker. His knowledge and experience actually rival William's."_

She returned her focus to Brandon. "Anyway, I'm glad that Dr. William is coming tomorrow."

Brandon nodded, pointing at his prosthetic leg on the floor beside his armchair.

"You're leaving?" Mika picked up the prosthesis and handed it to Brandon. "Come back safely, okay?"

Brandon nodded again. Well, as long as he had Cerberus, his trusty pair of .59 caliber handguns, he could protect himself better than everybody could imagine.

* * *

Millennion's research facility always felt like his trailer, his home. Cool wind from the air conditioners blew across the lab, which Brandon loved. According to the humans there, the lab also reeked of disinfectant, just like him when he had just received his therapy.

It was only much larger than his trailer, but Brandon never envied its size; if he had such a big residence, keeping it clean would drive him nuts.

The massive iron door slid open with a harsh screech. A chubby man in a lab coat immediately turned to him with widened eyes and a gaping mouth. As if a murderer had just arrived.

Then he grinned. "It's you, Mr. Brandon!" He sauntered to him and gave his back a friendly smack once he reached him. "How's your little girl?"

He was Dr. Douglas, one of Millennion's youngest scientists. Although he had just worked for less than a year, he knew about necrolyzation as much as his seniors did; according to others, he spent his spare time reading whatever necrolyzation-related material he had with him. Some said that this behavior of his stemmed from his eagerness to work as Brandon's caretaker - a highly paid job in the Mafia - someday.

 _With such friendliness,_ Brandon thought, striding past the doctor after waving a hand at him, _he will eventually achieve his dream. Millennion values knowledge, skill, and especially good attitude._

With his hand and holstered guns at the ready, Brandon approached the gigantic capsule and stared at it. A motionless black dog lay there, its languid tongue sticking out.

"Just checked it. Apparently, the serum has yet to work," Douglas commented, his distancing footsteps echoing across the chamber. "Have a seat, my friend. An above-knee amputee like you can't possibly stand up for too long."

Brandon glanced over his shoulder and smiled. However, he would still stand close to the capsule. In case the mongrel rose, it would target him first.

An hour of standing still and watching over the dead dog brought him nothing but a stiff back. He decided to pace back and forth in front of the massive glass container.

"Instead of walking around, just sit _here_." Again, Douglas' remark fell on deaf ears. The doctor never learned from the experience during that one hour of waiting.

Something beeped. Brandon drew his gun and stared at the capsule. However, he found nothing but a motionless mutt behind the thick glass. Perhaps he missed something, so he moved closer to the massive container.

The dog's paws twitched. Then it slowly rose to its feet, reminding Brandon of how he first woke up after his reanimation. Its eyes remained closed.

"Hmm? The process is slower than I thought," Douglas noted, running towards the capsule. "It's not-"

A howl cut him short. The beast's eyes snapped open, red and glowing. Its claws grew big enough to take the shape of a kitchen knife. Bloody blades of bone, like some oversized sawteeth, sprouted along the dog's back. Humans would see this as a monstrosity that existed only in nightmares.

_And that was why I was created. Humans need a protection from these things._

Brandon quickly pushed the big red button on the control panel of the capsule. Green gas poured into the container, but instead of collapsing, the dog let out a vigorous roar. It fixed its fiery gaze on the trembling Douglas.

Whatever the hound would do, Brandon rushed to the doctor while firing his gun at the beast. Bullets plinked against the glass and left fissures across the gas-laden capsule. _Damned barrier!_

"Look out, Sir!"

The dog somersaulted. The jagged bones left its body like bullets, shooting through the cracked glass before digging deep into Brandon's torso. Good thing necrolyzers couldn't sense pain properly; as long as he didn't pull these things out, he wouldn't bleed too much.

Standing on its four legs, the beast howled. A new set of jagged bones grew along its back. Once again, it flipped in the air and launched the blades at him.

Brandon shot them down, only to have another barrage coming at him. Firing at the razor-edged bones, he thought he needed a change of tactics. This dog was no different from a gun with infinite ammo.

Instead of destroying the incoming bones, Brandon fired at the knife-shooting beast. A bullet hit the dog in the eye. Another one drilled into its forehead and reduced it into an immobile hunk of black fur.

The kill didn't come without a price; Brandon's hand now felt warm and sticky. Looking down, he could see bleeding gashes along his arm.

Turning around, he found Douglas - now wearing a gas mask - cowering behind a desk. He walked to him.

His approaching footsteps brought the doctor to a standing position. "It's _that_ dangerous." He paused. "I know Boss ordered you to come here, but I just can't thank you enough. Let me treat your wounds before you go home." As he turned to leave, he added, "I think I now know why Boss won't let you fight when you're injured. You don't mind putting yourself in harm's way for others."

"It's the best thing I can do as a necrolyzer," he muttered, "for Millennion."

* * *

He came home pretty messy. Although Douglas had bandaged his wounds and applied fresh necrolyzation serum on them, he couldn't hide the patches of dried blood on his t-shirt and greatcoat. Hell, the injuries could still bleed through the wound dressing and stain his clothes.

Once he pulled the trailer's steel door open, Mika put the comic down on the bench. A smile formed on her face, only to fade seconds later.

"Brandon!" she exclaimed, running to him as he closed the door. "What happened?"

"It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Wrapping her arms around his waist, she looked up at him with teary eyes. "But there's so much blood."

"Nothing serious." He hugged her back, smiling. "Dr. Douglas already took care of my wounds. Tomorrow, we can just let Dr. William do the follow-up."

"He..." Mika looked down. "He isn't coming tomorrow!"

Brandon gasped, his eye widening. What happened to the doctor? Another accident or death in his family?

"I heard that...Dr. William's sister-in-law was dead."

This couldn't be a coincidence.


	2. Two Little Girls

_"Just stay at home, please."_

Brandon knew why Mika said that over and over again throughout the evening. His wounds hadn't closed properly; if Douglas hadn't applied necrolyzation serum on them, they wouldn't have stopped bleeding. However, he wasn't a frail man. His lean, muscular body could easily trick people into thinking him a professional athlete.

Well, he didn't sprint around the parking basement and do push-ups for nothing every morning, lost limbs be damned.

Sitting still in his van with Albert, his personal driver, he looked at the surroundings. The street lights glowed in the dark, helping him to spot any possible anomaly. Necrolyzed beings – be they hellhounds, green-skinned giants, or overgrown humans like him – would never have the chance to harm Albert.

Twenty minutes passed in silence. Not that Albert was a quiet guy; instead, the driver had found it tiring to talk to him. For the first five minutes, Albert had suggested that he stayed at home and slept, but his words were only met with silence.

Brandon was like a statue, except that he breathed and would readily move at the sight of a suspicious thing.

The van halted. With a twist of his key, Albert shut the car down. They had arrived at Bernard's house, the crime scene, their destination. Men in black suits and body armor – standard Millennion agents and Anti-Necrolyze gunmen - roamed the porch. Some of them talked, while others examined the fallen door and chairs under the gleaming hanging lamp.

Brandon opened the car door and stepped out. He approached the porch without a word.

One of the agents glanced over his shoulder. "Mr. Brandon? Why are you here?"

"To lend a hand," he replied, walking past the agent and hunching over to inspect the timber door. Claw marks littered its smooth surface, as though some animals had just used it as a scratching post.

"The hellhounds may be behind this," the agent said, "or not. There are some strange things inside."

With a nod, Brandon stepped into the house. All the lights were on, revealing the chaos inside. Footprints, both coming from paws and shoes alike, stained the white ceramic floor red. Further ahead, a huge puddle of blood lay in front of the stoves and cupboards. A group of Anti-Necrolyze gunmen stood around the crimson fluid, talking to each other.

Hmm, no corpse? Also, from the footprints alone, Brandon could tell that something else accompanied the hellhounds. _Necrolyzers_ , he concluded after comparing the size of the footprint with his own foot.

He approached the men in body armor and a toolbox, drawing their attention with his heavy footsteps.

"Mr. Brandon? Are you helping us?" one of them began.

Brandon nodded.

"Great!" The agent rubbed the back of his neck. "Honestly, this case is driving us nuts. This puddle of blood and the footprints are the only clues. The murderer didn't even leave a corpse."

"We've done some tests on the blood. It belongs to a human and the type matches Christina's. Also, judging from the size of the puddle, it's likely that Christina dies soon due to blood loss."

"No eyewitness?" Brandon asked.

The agent shook his head. "Not even their corpses, Sir." He paused. "So, what can you tell from the blood and the footprints?"

"A necrolyzer carried the corpse out of here," Brandon declared.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Hellhounds carry things with their jaws. The corpse won't be far above the ground, so it'll leave long trails of blood." He placed his foot beside a footprint and pointed at it. "Moreover, no human's foot is this big."

"Then who's behind this? There must be a Millennion scientist involved. Or at least a former Millennion scientist."

"Maybe another mafia organization," another agent responded. "They can just hire a former Millennion scientist."

Brandon nodded slightly before turning around, knowing that he wouldn't get any additional clues here.

 _Bernard. Then Christina, Bernard's wife._ Brandon rubbed his cheek with a finger as he left the scene. _Such a pattern. I bet their daughters and William will be the next target._

He'd better leave and visit William instead.

* * *

It took twenty minutes to reach William's home by car. Brandon thought this was a good thing; if William had lived too close to the crime scene, he'd have died.

Ears perked up, Brandon walked along the stone path and towards the porch. Leaves rustled in the howling wind. Thunder rumbled in the flickering night sky. Fortunately, he had Albert by his side; the driver had brought an umbrella with him. Having a huge fan of outdoor activities around was really beneficial after all.

"I knew it'd be raining when we arrived here," Albert commented from behind, popping the umbrella open. "Anyway, you still won't consider going back?"

Brandon shook his head.

They'd arrived at the porch when drops of water pelted the earth and the roof. However, the strong wind blew the liquid darts towards them. Albert tried to cover Brandon's back with the umbrella, but the necrolyzer simply said, "Protect yourself, Albert. I can't catch a cold."

"But it's still uncomfortable to be all wet, Sir."

Luckily, William opened the door almost immediately after Brandon knocked on it. "Get in! Quick!"

Luminescence and warmth greeted Brandon and Albert when they dashed into the house. The drumming noise from the rain dissipated once William closed the door. Now, Brandon only heard kids' chattering.

Kids? William didn't have any, did he?

An old woman sat on a couch in front of a TV, knitting a sock. Two blond girls stood around her with their focus fixated on the piece of fabric. Then they shifted their gaze to Brandon, and after staring at him for a few seconds, they cried and cowered behind the granny's seat.

Hmm, those kids looked like Christina's daughters. How did they survive the murder?

The granny - William's mother - looked at him before telling the girls, "Nancy, Nina, it's Mr. Brandon."

"He's a necrolyzer, Grandma Whitney!" shouted Nina, the one with slightly bigger eyes and a fatter body in the twins.

"A good one." Whitney put down the sock. "Come on. Say hello to him."

"No!" Nancy screamed. "Necrolyzers are bad! They kill people!"

"It was a necrolyzed dog that killed your parents, dear."

"Mr. Brandon is still a _necrolyzed_ man!"

Whitney shrugged. "I'm sorry, Brandon. These are just...too much for them."

Brandon nodded, approaching at the terrified kids while silently wishing that they would come close to him. He offered his hand with a smile, but they only screamed.

"It's worsened by the fact that they know how their grandparents died," William suddenly spoke. "Necrolyzers pulverized them before these kids were born. Their mother saw it with her own eyes and had nightmares for a long time."

Brandon turned to see William and Albert walk towards him.

"You're here to ask about Christina's murder?" William asked. "I'm sorry, but I don't know much about it. Luckily, these two kids were with me when the murder happened."

"Why did you bring them with you?" Brandon asked.

"Christina asked for my help," William answered. "Earlier today, these two kids begged their mother to take them to the mall."

Brandon only nodded.

"Christina said she'd got a lot of work at home. Because they were too noisy, she asked me to take them there." William looked down. "Then, when we were at the mall, she called me. She wanted to know if the kids were okay." He looked up, revealing the tears in his eyes. "But suddenly, she screamed. I heard barks and growls before the phone went off."

 _Hellhounds did that_ , Brandon concluded. But who created them? Why did they target William's family?

"Excuse me, Doc," Albert chimed in, poking William's shoulder with a finger. "Do you feel like you've offended another crime organization here? Like the Lazaro Family or maybe the Corsione?"

"I don't think so."

"Doc, there seems to be a pattern in this case," Brandon warned. "First Bernard. Then Christina. Don't you think that the culprit may move onto you? Or even-" Brandon resisted the urge to mention the girls' names. _Don't terrify them._

After a few seconds of silence, William walked past Brandon and towards the two little girls. Hugging them, he said, "Nancy, Nina, listen to Uncle. It seems like some necrolyzed beings are targeting Uncle. Are you afraid of them?"

The two girls returned William's embrace while screaming, "Yes!"

When Brandon approached them, Nancy and Nina struggled to break free from William's hug. He remained silent because he didn't want to further frighten them, but in his heart, he wondered if he were that big, bad, and scary.

"Don't be afraid of him. I've been his personal doctor for a year and can never be his good friend if he's evil," William told them. He then looked at Brandon. "If you don't mind, can you take care of these kids for a few days?"

Brandon nodded, reaching out his hand to the kids. However, Nancy and Nina only pulled away. They'd have fled if William hadn't held them tightly.

"He'll protect you." William kissed each of them on the forehead. "Trust Uncle, okay?"

"No!" they screamed. "Necrolyzers are bad!"

Suddenly, Brandon felt a poke on his back. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a smirking Albert. "Mr. Brandon, are you ready for a little drama?" he whispered.

Brandon blinked, but when he saw a pistol in Albert's hand, he nodded.

Albert stepped past Brandon, pointing his gun at the necrolyzer's head. "Look at me, kids."

William, Whitney, and the two kids looked at him. At first, the adults' eyes widened, but then they smirked.

"I'll shoot him if he does anything bad, okay?"

Brandon also drew his own gun and pushed it against his chin. "I'll shoot myself if I do anything bad."

Nancy and Nina nodded. Once William released them, they ran towards Brandon. They wouldn't hug him, but Brandon didn't mind. He only needed them to follow him, although through their eyes, he could see intense fear.

"Kids, pack up your stuff first," William suggested.

* * *

Before heading home, Brandon visited the mart; aside from treats for Mika, he'd bought some sweets and milk for Nancy and Nina. Fortunately, William had given him some money. _"They're still my family,"_ the doctor said. _"Spend this money on their daily needs. If it turns out that I've given you too much, just keep it for yourself. Consider it as my gratitude."_

Putting down the grocery bag, Brandon knocked on the door before picking it back up again. A few seconds later, the door opened with a click. Mika stood on the ledge, smiling at him. "You're finally back!"

Brandon nodded, stepping aside to reveal the two girls behind him. The kids hopped onto the ledge in an instant, laughing and calling Mika "Big Sis" as they stood around her. It seemed like seeing another human girl, especially the one they'd once met, made them feel safer.

"Um, aren't they Dr. William's nieces? Why did you bring them along?"

"Since the criminal is targeting the doctor, it's too dangerous for them to stay with him." Brandon stepped into the trailer. Approaching the desk, he put down the grocery bag.

The door closed gently, and a click echoed along with laughter. Brandon turned around to see Mika playing with the kids. He grinned at this; it seemed like his child had gained the ability to nurture the young from him, although she was more of an extroverted person.

_I can entrust them to her._

Still smiling, Brandon walked towards his wheelchair and sat on it. As he wheeled himself towards the bins of clothes, he took off his greatcoat and t-shirt and tossed them into the box with the label "Dirty." Then he headed to the bathroom, picking up a set of clean clothes and his towel from the rack at the entrance.

* * *

There was nothing wrong with asking Mika to help scrub that sponge against his body; back when he'd just lost an arm and a leg, with William's guidance, she gave him a bed bath everyday. However, he wouldn't know where to hide his face if Nancy and Nina found out that he needed a kid to help him take a bath.

He decided to keep quiet instead of calling out to Mika. It saved his pride, although he had to find a way to wash his good arm. His teeth could work, but it also meant he'd end up with a mouthful of soap water. How disgusting, even for someone whose sense of taste had long died.

Before leaving the bathroom, he stopped by the washbowl to rinse his soapy mouth with a glass of water. _The bandage should've covered my whole arm, so that I'd have a reason not to wash it._

Wheeling himself out of the bathroom with his prosthetic leg on his lap, he put his towel back on the rack and tossed his worn pants into the bin of grimy clothes. After putting away his prosthesis, he looked at the wall clock. Ten o' clock. Time for the kids to sleep.

As he moved towards Mika and William's nieces, he overheard their conversation. _Fussing over a place to sleep_ , he thought. Sometimes, he wondered if he should renovate the trailer so that a real bed could fit in. Unfortunately, he had spent too much money - even more than his earnings - for his medical care already. Even if he asked for Biscoe's help, the mob boss would use the same reason to brush him off.

"Sorry, this bench is only enough for me," Mika told Nancy and Nina, who had put on pajamas. "I don't think it's a good idea if you two sleep together here. I'm afraid that one of you may fall down."

Brandon raised his hand, drawing Mika's attention. With his child looking at him, he pointed at his armchair.

"Good idea!" Mika returned her gaze to the kids. "You two can sleep on top of him. Just try not to move or kick a lot. You may reopen his wounds."

Nancy and Nina stared at Brandon before taking a few steps backwards. "No!" both of them screamed, tugging at Mika's pajamas.

"Why? He isn't that scary." Mika patted their backs. "You know how long I've been living with him? For more than a year. I often sleep on top of him, too, and nothing bad ever happens." She laughed softly. "Instead, I feel much safer. He's the kind of person who'll do his best to protect you."

The kids looked at him; this time, though, their eyes showed only a little bit of fear. Slowly, they let go of Mika and approached him.

With a nod, Brandon turned around and wheeled himself towards his massive recliner. After parking his wheelchair beside the armchair, he pulled the lever to lock the wheels. Grabbing the armrest of his gigantic chair, he pulled himself up to a standing position. One leg wouldn't give him much time, so he quickly turned and bent his good knee. He managed to sit down without a fuss.

Looking at the approaching kids, he reached out to the remote attached the armrest and pressed the buttons. The leg rest rose as the backrest went down.

Nancy and Nina came, but they stood still in front of the bed. Their faces displayed fear and hesitation, which told Brandon that they still couldn't trust him. However, he simply gave a gentle smile and waved his hand at them.

"C'mon," Mika encouraged from the bench. "He's as gentle as a lamb."

After a long moment of silence, Nancy and Nina retreated while screaming, "No!"

Brandon sat up and looked at Mika. "Well, we just can't force it, Mika," he said. "Let them sleep together on the bench."

"Hmm, okay." Mika stood up and sauntered towards Brandon. "You two," she told the girls, "don't move too much, okay? Falling down hurts."

Nancy and Nina hurried to the bench, as though a real big, bad, and scary necrolyzer chased them along the way.

* * *

The next morning, Dr. Zach came to check Brandon's injuries. Like usual, Zach ended up quarreling with Mika. "You can't change fate," he said. "If these kids are going to die, no matter how hard you try to protect them, they'll end up dying anyway."

Luckily, Brandon stopped Mika from kicking the doctor in his shin.

After the visit, Brandon set off to William's house. He'd thought of setting up an ambush throughout the night. If the culprit truly targeted William, his plan would succeed.

As William opened the door, he asked, "Mr. Brandon? Mr. Albert? Why are you here? And what's with that spear?"

"Let's talk inside." Spear in hand, Albert walked into the house with Brandon. "Afraid there are ears everywhere out there." Once William closed the door, Albert told him, "We'll stay here for a few hours. The criminal was probably targeting you, right? If that was correct, then our ambush would work."

"I don't know whether the attackers come in a swarm or not," William replied, "but from Christina's murder yesterday, I thought they _mobbed_ her." He placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder. "I doubt Brandon can handle them by himself."

"There's also me, Doc." Albert chuckled, spinning his stainless steel spear above his head before pointing it at William. "I have this."

Brandon smiled slightly. He appreciated Albert's eagerness to help, but he thought his driver had better stay behind him. Albert might know how to wield a spear, but a human wouldn't last long in a melee combat against a horde of undead.

"Okay." William motioned them towards the living room. "By the way, Mr. Brandon, how are Nancy and Nina doing?"

"They're fine," Brandon replied. "They're still afraid of me, though."

William stopped in his tracks and glanced over his shoulder. "Well, I guess they need more time." He continued walking. "Mom, we've got guests!"

Brandon saw Whitney stand up and heard her say, "Oh, I'll make some tea."

A few hours passed with everybody sitting at the living room and watching the TV . However, the news report spoke nothing about necrolyzed beings. Maybe Biscoe had bribed the press to keep their mouths shut. He understood why; whenever necrolyzed beings appeared in the town, everybody would blame Millennion. "Only Millennion knows how to reanimate corpses!" the citizens of Billion always said.

Another hour passed, and William asked, "Are you going to spend the whole day here?"

Albert pointed at Brandon. "It depends on him."

Suddenly, Brandon's phone rang. He picked it up and heard Mika's quiet sobs.

_What now?_


	3. Sacrifice

_"Nancy and Nina told me they wanted to find their dad, so they asked Mr. Nick to take them out. The basement guards didn't let me join them, so I called you. Brandon, please find and protect them."_

_Their dad._ That alone made Brandon suspect that Bernard had become a necrolyzer. But how did those kids know that their dad was still out there? Did they dream or hallucinate about their deceased father?

Besides, who would've thought of necrolyzing this poor doctor? Maybe William, but he didn't have much money. He couldn't possibly sustain Bernard's body, and if he loved his brother, he definitely wouldn't let Bernard suffer the fate of an impoverished necrolyzer - dying a slow, painful death.

Brandon's van sped along the lonely road. Buildings with peeling wall paint and broken windows surrounded the path. He'd chosen to explore West District because from his experience, shady experiments often took place there due to its status as a "ghost region" in Billion.

"But that doesn't mean that necrolyzation projects always take place here," Albert noted, steering the wheel. "Still remember what Boss told you after Dr. Bernard's death? Millennion agents couldn't find anything suspicious in Billion."

But Brandon thought it wouldn't hurt to survey the area. However, an hour of scanning the whole district earned him nothing.

"Let's go back," Albert suggested. "Nick probably isn't that stupid to take the kids out...unless they're too noisy. Our buddy can't really stand crying kids."

"If Nick hadn't brought the kids out," Brandon growled, "Mika wouldn't have called me."

Albert replied with nothing but silence.

On the way back, he kept staring through the window. Only multistory buildings with peeled wall paint - either caused by some stray necrolyzed beings or just the weather - came across his sight.

Minutes later, when he looked through a passageway between the two houses beside him, he spotted a speeding black van on the other side.

_Nick drives a silver hatchback everywhere... Something isn't right._

"Albert," Brandon began, "find the nearest junction and turn left. After that, stop the car and find a safe place. I'll proceed by myself."

"Why?"

"There's a suspicious van."

"Suspicious?" Albert chuckled. "That may just be some ignorant civilians passing by, but whatever you say, Sir."

* * *

When Brandon reached another junction by foot, his ears registered a loud crash. Gun drawn, he stopped at the intersection and looked to his left.

Brandon knew he could always trust his gut. That van belonged to nobody but three hellhounds and two necrolyzers - why they were some overgrown men like him instead of green-skinned giants, nobody knew. Now, with the vehicle parked across them, they surrounded a flipped silver hatchback and a fallen street lamp. Much like a pack of wolves preparing themselves to savor their kill.

 _Those kids!_ Heart pounding wildly, he ran towards the commotion and fired his gun.

The gunshot drew the hellhounds' attention. The beasts whirled and charged at him, drool dripping down their mouths and fangs. Brandon fired again and killed one of them with a bullet to the head.

A girl's scream exploded across the street. Looking ahead, Brandon saw a ripped car door in a necrolyzer's hand.

Chomp!

The hellhounds clamped their jaws on his sound leg. Blood trickled down his calf and seeped into his pants. What the hell?

He pulled away his leg and tore himself free from the dogs. Crimson fluid gushed out of his wounds and formed tiny puddles on the ground - a small price he had to pay for that girl's life.

Resuming his sprint, he fired at the necrolyzer. His bullets struck the overgrown man, but even with a wounded arm the undead _still_ insisted on pulling a crying Nancy out of the wreckage.

The necrolyzer hurled the girl into the sky and let her plummet like a rock.

Crap! If she ever landed, she would die! Placing his gun between his teeth, he leaped over the necrolyzers with his only arm spread. Much to his relief, it merely took a quick swipe to catch her in his embrace.

His ears registered barks and growls, and something tugged at his sound leg and pushed him a bit . Glancing over his shoulder, he found two hellhounds clinging to his calf. They suddenly dropped down, pulling away with fabric and flesh between their teeth.

He landed on his feet a few seconds later. With Nancy released, he could now use his gun. He turned and dispatched an incoming hellhound with a headshot.

"Mr. Brandon! Help!" Nancy wailed from behind.

Brandon turned around. The last hellhound ran after the limping Nancy, its bloody claws and fangs ready to shred the little girl. Chasing it, he fired his gun. The dog fell with gaping wounds on its head and back.

Vroom!

Brandon turned to the source of the noise. The black van streaked away from them, leaving a trail of smoke. He rushed towards the fleeing vehicle, but his lacerated leg suddenly lost its strength. His body smashed into the ground with a thud.

As he crawled ahead, a girl's cry stopped him. _Nancy..._

Slowly, he pushed himself up to his feet. His enfeebled leg almost sent him tumbling again, but by holding the nearby windowsills and walls, he could hobble towards the bawling Nancy and the flipped car.

The silver hatchback lay beside a fallen street lamp, its roof dented and its doors ripped out. The felled pole leaned against the crushed wall of the three-story building beside it.

"Sis and Mr. Nick are gone!" Nancy cried out, wiping her eyes with a hand. "Two necrolyzers took them away!"

Brandon's eye widened at that. Standing before the hatchback, he peeked into the car. Instead of seeing Nick's and Nina's bodies, he found only blood on the leather seat and cracked windows.

He would never see Nick and Nina again, even if they survived the accident. Somehow, he found himself hoping that they had died, so that they wouldn't know what the enemy would do to them. _Unless they necrolyze them,_ he noted with a wince. _  
_

Brandon only knew to hug Nancy afterwards. It was to comfort her...and himself. Tears escaped from his only eye.

* * *

Inside his van, Nancy fell asleep in his lap, her head resting against his chest. Having seen how people were badly hurt - or even died - in front of her, especially her sister, she'd better sleep instead of staying awake.

Moreover, the crash had damaged her right clavicle. She looked fine at first, but her arm actually remained limp all the time and she never bothered to lift it. Brandon immediately placed a hand on her shoulder, which caused her to scream. Then he found a warm, tender bump around her collarbone.

Silence accompanied their journey home. Even though he'd saved Nancy, his heart still ached and burned. He had let Nina - a kid, the girl whom William and Mika had asked him to protect - die. After that, Nancy didn't really come back in perfect condition.

For now, he could only report his findings to Biscoe and Norton and let them plan Millennion's next move.

"Albert," he muttered, "your phone. I need to call Mr. Biscoe."

With a nod, Albert took his phone out of his pants pocket and handed it to Brandon.

Numbers dialed and a few beeps later, the mob boss answered the call, "Brandon? You found something?"

"Yeah. Hellhounds and necrolyzers attacked us."

A pause. "I beg your pardon?"

"Hellhounds and necrolyzers attacked us at West District. Nick and Nina were killed in the assault." _If you don't trust me, I'll show you my wounds._ However, Brandon had a feeling that Biscoe wouldn't ask for the proof. Unlike his second-in-command Norton, the old mob boss was aware of Brandon's ability and dedication to Millennion.

"Really? It seems like they're drawn to Dr. William's nieces."

 _Maybe..._ Why did he feel a bit uneasy after hearing that? Part of him suspected that Biscoe wanted to use Nancy to lure those monstrosities out.

"You're hurt?"

"Got bitten in the leg. Albert has washed and bandaged the wounds, though."

"You still need some serum. I'll get the doctor," Biscoe replied. "And about the findings, I'll discuss them with others and let you know our next move later." The call went out with a click.

After returning the phone to Albert, Brandon wrapped his arm around the slumbering Nancy. He alternated between paying attention at her and their surroundings. A thrashing, wailing Nancy would need his gentle hand, while an incoming undead would need some bullets.

Thirty minutes passed. Brandon could now see Millennion Tower. Consisting of over fifty floors, the skyscraper seemed to blend into the blue sky.

From which floor had he fallen fourteen years ago? The glass elevator had brought him and Harry really high - at least the twentieth floor - before his treasonous friend attacked him, with the last point-blank shot to the eye sending him out of the lift. Luckily, the final bullet had killed him, so he never watched how the concrete pavement rose to meet his face and saw the bloody mess he ended up as after the touchdown.

Everything dimmed all of a sudden, snapping him out of his trance. Sunlight peeked through the openings on the gray wall. Rows of cars surrounded his moving van. He was almost home.

When the van moved down the ramp, he poked Nancy in the head. Truth be told, he preferred carrying her into the trailer because he disliked waking up a child who needed some rest. But he didn't have a left arm, meaning that if he wished to hoist her into his residence, he would have to keep her in his one-armed embrace. That would hurt her broken clavicle for sure.

Nancy raised her head. Looking at him with her half-closed eyes, she babbled.

Whatever she meant by that, he leaned closer to her ear and whispered, "We're home. Let's walk together."

Nancy nodded, still looking sleepy.

Minutes later, the van stopped beside a massive silver trailer. Mika and Zach stood in front of the entrance doors, glaring at each other. The doctor must've quarreled with Mika again.

After releasing the seat belt, he opened the door and sat still for a while. Once Nancy had crawled down his lap and stepped out, he followed her to Mika and Zach.

Mika smiled at Nancy. When she glanced at Brandon, though, her smile faded. Eyes fixed at his ripped, bloodstained pants, she stammered, "Y-you got in a fight? A-and where's Nina?"

"There's a reason why I came." Zach rubbed his bushy white beard with a finger. "Well, let me guess. The other kid died in that fight along with the basement guard who brought them out."

Nancy wailed as Mika's eyes widened. Brandon only looked down.

"Told you." Zach scoffed. "You can't protect everybody forever." After a pause, he added, "This girl sure is lucky, but I don't think her luck will save her next time."

"I won't let her leave the tower without me again," the exasperated Brandon growled, staring at the doctor. "For now, take care of her, Doc. She has a broken collarbone."

"I'll treat your wounds first." He pointed at Brandon's lacerated leg. "Boss may want to see you soon."

Brandon simply seized Zach by his collar and gave him a death glare.

"Fine," Zach said. "Don't blame me if Boss gets angry. He needs you."

* * *

When the doctor had treated his and Nancy's wounds and left, he and Mika stood before the trailer's metallic bench. Mika had always padded it with stacks of clean cloth, turning it into a single bed so that anyone could sleep soundly on it. However, Brandon could never rest well there since he was too big for it.

Looking at the sleeping girl, Mika began with teary eyes, "I'm sorry for all the trouble, Brandon." She sobbed. "I should've tried harder to stop them."

Brandon didn't even growl; nor did he give her an angry stare. _Come on, it's not easy for a child to take care of younger kids by herself._ "Never mind. Just be more careful next time." He patted her head, drawing her attention. "Tell me what happened."

"Earlier today, Nancy and Nina talked about necrolyzers with me. They asked if necrolyzers can be so kind." She paused. "So, I told them that necrolyzers can be very gentle if they have a loving family with them, whether they're green-skinned giants or overgrown men. Then the two kids started crying."

Brandon nodded, wondering how it ended up with the kids searching for their father. Maybe Bernard did return as a necrolyzer, yet they thought of him as a monster and shunned him?

"Two days ago, an ugly green-skinned giant visited their house." She returned her gaze to Nancy. "He introduced himself as Dr. Bernard and called out to everybody in the house. But Mrs. Christina just closed the door and took the kids to safety. Although they saw the giant cry, they thought he was just shedding some crocodile tears." Seeing the blanket slip from Nancy's slumbering form, Mika picked it up and covered her back with it. "They remembered how that giant looked. He was big and bald with stitches in his head and stomach. Moreover, his head was dented while his stomach was bulging out."

"How could they be so sure that it was Dr. Bernard?"

"You remember what Dr. William said about him when we went to the hospital? Dr. Bernard got his skull cut out and put in his stomach. But he didn't look so scary back then, because all the wounds were bandaged." Mika looked up at Brandon. "After crying for some time, the kids said they wanted to find their daddy and-" A few loud knocks from the trailer's door cut her short.

Brandon walked towards the entrance, no longer limping thanks to the necrolyzation serum applied on the wounds. Opening the door, he saw Norton. It didn't really matter, though, since Norton often relayed Biscoe's messages to his underlings.

"Good afternoon." Norton turned around and wagged a finger. "Let's talk outside. Those two mustn't hear what we're talking about."

With a nod, Brandon followed Norton out of the trailer. He gave Mika an "I'll be right back" smile before closing the door.

As they walked, Norton told him, "Biscoe has come up with a plan. Because this horde of undead is coming from an unknown source, you must follow them to their hideout. Try sneaking into their van or something." An unsettling grin formed on his face. "But first, we must lure them out at West District. We've asked Mrs. Whitney for help. She'll be there to attract the horde."

Brandon's eye widened. "Dr. William's mother?"

Norton nodded. "The doctor hates that idea."

Brandon's hand almost moved by itself to slap Norton, but he resisted the urge because Norton was Biscoe's right-hand man. "Using a frail old woman to bait necrolyzed beings is _despicable_."

"I bet you'll have a different opinion if sacrificing the elderly is necessary to protect Miss Mika's life."

Brandon grimaced. After a moment of pondering, though, he realized that it wasn't that bad after all. They would sacrifice Whitney for Millennion, the very organization that kept him and Mika alive. But still...

"You know, your incredible strength is one of our only reasons to have you around, Brandon. Otherwise, we must've kicked you out from Millennion for not wanting to live the way of the Mafia," Norton scolded.

 _Why you..._ Brandon seized Norton by his collar and lifted him into the air. "Mafia or not, there are just some lines you mustn't cross!"

"You'll never understand. Now, show me some respect, will you? Not respecting your superior is a punishable deed here."

A growl escaped through Brandon's gritted teeth as he put Norton down. Another way of the Mafia: use your position to make your underlings obey.

"Luckily, Mrs. Whitney was eager to help us. She said that she wanted to avenge her dead granddaughter." Norton walked away. "Now, get your guns ready. Mrs. Whitney will arrive at Atlas Street in about an hour."

* * *

One couldn't possibly follow the necrolyzed beings into their hideout that easily; Brandon knew that since he'd watched how the undead escaped. To succeed in his current task, he had to act fast with a durable rope and a bag of rocks.

Before setting off to Atlas Street, he'd bought a double braid rope with him and asked Albert to help tie it around his waist. When he saw it fit, he'd tie the other end to the bumper of the horde's van. Maybe he'd end up scraping his body against the rough road along the way, but it'd be worth it. Millennion needed the information to protect its members.

He just had to make sure that the horde didn't know anything about his plan, so he kept the coiled remain in his pants. It bothered his thigh a bit, though.

For the second time today, his van ventured into the clusters of shoddy buildings. However, it would leave this lonely region soon. Once Brandon found a skewed street sign with the fading words "Titan Street," he told Albert, "Stop here. Atlas Street is nearby. I can reach there by foot."

Blinking at him, Albert unlocked the doors. "Well, as you wish, Sir. But you sure you don't want to save more energy?"

Brandon released the seat belt and opened the door. Stepping out, he said, "Leave this place ASAP. Don't let any necrolyzed beings see you."

Albert complied.

Sunlight glinted off the broken windows nearby. Cockroaches and other vermin crept along the dusty windowsills. Although wind didn't exist and Brandon hated excessive sweating, he pressed on.

When he reached a T junction, he stopped to take a peek at Atlas Street. Further in front of him, the black van remained still across Whitney. The doors flung open, and three necrolyzers came out of it.

Brandon dashed across the street and towards the black van. He hid behind the vehicle, his hand moving to draw his gun when a necrolyzer strangled Whitney. But wait. If he killed all the undead, who would drive the van to their base? Even if there was another necrolyzer in the vehicle, when those three died, the overgrown man would still kill Whitney before leaving.

_What kind of person are you, leaving a poor old woman to die like that?_

Brandon shook his head. Whitney would have to die if he wished to learn where the monstrosities came from, although watching her body go limp created a lump in his throat. Then his heart scolded him over and over again.

Frustrated, Brandon punched through the car window and hissed through his gritted teeth. _I'm just trying to learn where they all come from! For what, you ask? To make them pay for their crimes!_

The door further beside him opened with a click. _Busted!_ As he drew his Cerberus, a necrolyzer stepped out with a rifle. He fired, killing the overgrown man with a headshot while taking a hit to his own thigh. Much to his surprise, his gunshot wound only weakened his sound leg a bit. But how? Only anti-necrolyze rounds could pierce his flesh, and they would quickly debilitate him with pain.

Looking down, he found a dart. Damn. He had to act fast before the tranquilizer kicked in or other necrolyzers found him.

Gun holstered, he lay down and took the coiled rope out of his pants. After biting off the strap of leather that kept the loose end coiled, he tied a knot at the trembling bumper.

Tap, tap, tap...

Something blocked the sunlight. Turning around, he found a blurred figure of a necrolyzer towering before him.

"You think we don't know what you're gonna do? Well, let me tell you something. We won't be cutting the rope 'cause Boss wants to meet you personally. Best if you arrive broken and bloody." The necrolyzer paced towards his dead friend and the open door. "You won't know the direction to our base anyway. We don't come with a tranquilizer gun for no reason."

 _The first encounter must've given them a lot of information_ , Brandon thought, pulling out the bag of rocks from his coat pocket. _But I have a backup plan._

Once the doors slammed shut, the van sped away. His breathing slowed. His heart rate dropped. Blood soaked into his peeled bandages as his body rubbed and banged against the uneven terrain.

His limbs slowly lost their strength and his vision blackened, but he struggled against the adversities and tossed the rocks along the trail. Hopefully, the horde would never find out about this.

Unfortunately, his hand soon grew too weak to hold the bag of rocks. As everything went black, he could only hope that the trail was long enough to give Millennion an idea about where the enemies headed.


	4. Homecoming

Despite the darkness, he knew he was lying on the ground without his prosthetic leg. From the coldness permeating into his skin, he could tell that his adversary had stripped him to his waist. Moreover, he could feel trails of blood travel down his body and seep into the floor beneath. But something wasn't right; his healing wounds, even if reopened, would never bleed so much.

Crack!

Something struck him in the back. As he struggled to open his eye, he heard another crack and felt another lash.

"He's waking up," a deep, guttural voice rumbled amid some growls and barks. "Give him another dose of sedative!"

His eye still wouldn't open.

From the next few cracks, he could tell that he had arrived at his destination. Even though he saw just darkness, he knew he was very close to the leader of the horde. But still, he needed to learn what the boss looked like. Was he a human? A necrolyzer? A green-skinned giant or an overgrown man? Detailed information would surely help his future investigation, but he wondered if he could get out of here alive.

Well, he just had to buy enough time for his muscles to recuperate.

Suddenly, someone yanked up his only arm. He pulled it back, only to earn a quick, feeble blow to the face. The unseen foe used the distraction to hold his arm firmly and push a needle into his vein.

"You sure need a _much_ higher dose than usual." More hits came. "But I won't give you too much sedative at a time. Too risky. He'll kill me if you die."

 _He?_ Right now, Brandon could only conclude that he was close to the right-hand man, not the leader. Once again, he struggled to open his eye, but something flogged him across the face.

"You may not know who I am."

 _Screw that._ With blood trickling down his nose and lips, he forced his eye open. Two black pillars stood before him. _Must be the second-in-command's legs._

"Hey!" A black suede shoe rocketed to his nose. Before it hit him and shut his eye, he caught a glimpse of green amid the swaying fabric.

_A necrolyzer!_

Another lash struck him in the face. With blood trailing down his good eye, he had no hopes of knowing how this necrolyzer's face looked like.

"Well? He ordered me to set you free after beating you up, so you mustn't know anything about us. He only has a problem with you, not Millennion."

Seriously, what did their boss have in his mind? If he wished to torture him, he could just keep him here as long as he wanted.

Unfortunately, the sedative kicked in before he could think further about that strange boss.

* * *

_A six-year-old Brandon and his pregnant mother, Elizabeth, sat at the dining table, savoring the beefsteak on their plates. Unlike most civilians of West District, they had the chance to eat either beef, pork, or mutton every day. It was the luxury of having a butcher in the family._ _However, it didn't come without a price. Like today, even after the clock had hit 6PM, his father hadn't come home.  
_

_To relieve the loneliness, he decided to start a conversation. His mother often told him not to speak while eating, but he couldn't resist the urge._

_"Mom, how's little sis?" he asked his mother, chomping down the last slice of beef._

_Elizabeth swallowed her food. "Doing good. We'll get to see her in two months."  
_

_Suddenly, the doorbell rang. An excited Brandon sprang to his feet and rushed towards the door, grabbing a stool on the way. "Dad!" He placed it in front the door, climbed onto it, and peeked through the peephole.  
_

_Instead of seeing his father, Brandon saw a scary, yet familiar man. He had a scar under his left eye and a lit cigarette between his teeth. His menacing brown eyes sent chills down the boy's spine.  
_

_This man, known as Rafael Jones, had visited them on regular basis for years for "protection money." A few months ago, though, they moved out for unknown reasons. Brandon first guessed his parents were tired of dealing with Rafael, but one night, he learned that he was wrong. As he woke up to urinate, he overheard a talk between his parents. His father said something about "killed one of Rafael's goons" and "afraid of Rafael seeking revenge."  
_

_Stepping down, he backed off with the stool in his shaky hands. As he did, he bumped into his mother._

_"Brandon? You look scared."_

_"It's-" The stool slipped off his hands. "It's that creepy Mr. Rafael!"_

_Elizabeth's eyes widened. Then she grabbed his hand. "Let's escape through the back door."  
_

_With a nod, Brandon ran across the living room with his mother. When they reached the back door, though, it collapsed with a crash. A hulking man stood still with an equally burly man in tow, their hands occupied by a huge steel beam._

_"As if we don't know anything about you!" one of them yelled._

_"Brandon, run!" Elizabeth pushed Brandon away. His trembling legs wouldn't let him move further, though.  
_

_The two men dashed into the house and rammed Elizabeth with the steel beam. She crashed to the ground, a puddle of dark blood forming beneath her. Brandon grimaced and cried at the sight, pain spreading across his body as if he had taken the blow, too. His mommy was badly hurt, and his unborn little sister... His poor, poor little sister...  
_

_"Good job, guys," a chilling baritone voice echoed from behind the men. The two big guys stepped aside, revealing a scarred thug with a large leather sack in a hand.  
_

_"Rafael!" Elizabeth snapped, panting and writhing painfully on the floor.  
_

_"Me?" Rafael removed the cigarette from his mouth and breathed out a puff of smoke. "Your husband told me to stop fooling around with my sheep clothing anyway."  
_

_Elizabeth huffed, clutching her stomach. "You...you asked too-" Her breathlessness cut her off.  
_

_"Oh, you don't like the term 'protection money' I presume?"_

_"Protection?" Elizabeth panted. "When Bruce didn't pay, you...you all just...wrecked his stall." Elizabeth slowly rose to a sitting position. "Where's he now?"  
_

_"Your dearest husband is here." Rafael held up the sack and poured the contents out._

_Brandon wished his mother hadn't asked that question. The bag contained not only his father's favorite meat cleaver, but also his severed head. Brandon quickly looked away, covering his eyes with his hands.  
_

_"Nobody can kill my man and get away with it. Oh, well, I can make that a reality thanks to your brother-in-law."_

_"Abrams? But he's-"_

_"Unapproachable?" Rafael laughed. "Money talks, missus. Money talks."_

_Brandon heard a set of approaching footsteps. When he let go of his eyes, a brawny, tattooed arm snaked around his body and lifted him. He wailed and thrashed, struggling to break free._

_"Brandon!" his mother screamed._

_"Since you haven't paid us for three months, we'll be taking him away." Rafael let out a devilish grin. "The black market will pay a lot for a healthy boy like him."_

_"Hands off my son!"_

_Brandon heard a whoosh and a clatter. The grip loosened, and a thud followed. Brandon landed on his feet and looked back. The big man, now kneeling, had a gaping wound on the left side of his head. A bloodstained meat cleaver lay beside him.  
_

_"Oh, I see you're following your husband's footsteps." Rafael pulled a revolver out of his belt holster. "Don't worry. You're seeing him soon."_

_More tears streamed out of Brandon's eyes when he looked at his helpless mother. She sat still on the bloody floor, looking at him with a revolver pressed against her head._

_"Run-"_

_Bang!_

* * *

Brandon's eye snapped open and burned. Teeth gritted, he supported himself up with his only arm. Saliva trickled down his mouth as he snarled like a hungry wolf. If he had become a necrolyzer when he murdered Rafael, he wouldn't have simply choked him to death with a belt. His nonfunctional intestines would gladly make an exception for that bastard.

"You hear that?" a man's voice came from further in front of him. "I think he's waking up."

"I'll check on him."

Brandon's eye stopped burning. Lying back down, he closed it immediately. Whether he was with his friends or his foes, he'd just stay on the safe side.

"He's still asleep."

He waited for a few seconds, and when he felt like nobody was looking at him, he grinned.

Now, he would quietly study his surroundings. His ears registered the steady hum of an engine. The furry ground beneath him vibrated. When he opened his eye, he found a tufted carpet under his body. Through the window beside him, he saw a change in the sky behind the roadside trees. As the sun lowered beyond the horizon, the color of the sky became a mixture of orange, pink and red hues.

His gaze traveled down his body, and his eye widened at the sight. He was bandaged from head to toe like a mummy in the discovery shows he watched with Mika, except that he had his pants on and his wild white mane was spared. How come? Perhaps Millennion had found him? But if they had, they would surely put him on a place better than a floor.

Maybe this was the enemy's van? But then, why did they patch him up?

_"He'll kill me if you die."_

Yeah, perhaps they didn't want germs - one of the biggest threats to his body - to infest his flesh and blood. But still, the crazy criminal's logic never failed to baffle him. If you had a problem with someone, why couldn't you just go for the kill or torture that person without setting him free?

Maybe he needed more clues to understand everything.

Before sitting up, he raised his only arm slightly. It felt like struggling against an orgman's crushing stomp. After that, he raised his sound leg and flexed it carefully, ensuring that it didn't go past the leather seat that kept him concealed. Like the upper part of his body, his muscles wouldn't play nice.

He closed his eye, hoping to regain more strength through a power nap.

After resting for some time, he opened his eye and slowly rose. His body still ached a bit, but he believed he now had enough power to fight. With his image projected on the rear-view mirror ahead of him, he observed the driver's cockpit and the seat beside it. Two overgrown gray-haired men sat at the front; one of them steered the wheel on the left, while the other sat still on the right with a tranquilizer gun in his grasp.

They spotted him. "Go back to sleep!" the gun-wielding necrolyzer snapped, turning and aiming at him.

Brandon ducked. A dart whizzed past the leather seat, tearing its cover before hitting the back door.

"Stop the van!"

The van stopped with a screech. The abrupt halt sent Brandon rolling towards the door. Another dart came, which he dodged with a side roll. Looking past the leather seat, he saw the gun-wielding necrolyzer climbing and running all the way to him.

Brandon kicked the door down and rolled out of the van, evading more darts. He scanned the environment before rolling and creeping into underneath the trembling vehicle. They lay just a few meters away from a cliff.

The van suddenly moved, leaving behind a trail of smoke, dirt, and blood as it ran over his leg and chest. Patches of crimson appeared on his pants and bandaged torso, growing larger and larger.

A gunshot rang.

A dart struck him in his left thigh. Looking up, he found the gun-wielding necrolyzer towering before him. "Be a good boy and go back to sleep," the overgrown man taunted, grinning.

Brandon scooped up a handful of dirt and tossed it at the gloating undead.

"My eyes!"

Brandon kicked the gun out of the necrolyzer's grasp, sending it straight off the cliff.

"Dammit!" With a roar, the undead leaped. Landing knee-first on Brandon's chest, he pinned Brandon's arm to the ground with a hand. "One dart won't be enough to keep you asleep until we reach our destination. I'll just use the good ol' method."

The necrolyzer punched Brandon in the face, rapidly and repeatedly with the other hand. His heartbeat slowed. His vision blurred. Blood gushed out of his nostrils and reopened wounds. He struggled to break free from the undead's grip, but to no avail.

He spat blood at the man's eyes. Screaming in shock, the necrolyzer pulled away and rubbed his eyes. Arm now free, Brandon seized the overgrown man by his collar. A battle cry burst out of his mouth as he hurled the necrolyzer over the cliff. The undead wouldn't die from the fall, but for now, Brandon would have one less foe to deal with.

Huffing while struggling to keep his eye open, he turned around. The black van stood in the distance, its undead driver's fallen body surrounded by well-built men in body armor.

As much as he wanted to tell those people about his discovery, he couldn't help but succumb to exhaustion.

* * *

_"Come back here!" a man's voice echoed from behind._

_Without looking back, the six-year-old Brandon kept running along the alley. His heart pounded hard and fast as he skipped over the broken glass and the empty cans in his path. Although he was almost out of breath, he only knew one thing: run away. The pursuer - one of Rafael's men - would immediately pounce on him if he ever slowed down._

_The seemingly endless alley finally came to an end. But as Brandon landed a foot on the desolate pavement, something struck the back of his skull. Stumbling with an aching head, he saw an empty can hitting the ground before bouncing and rolling away from him._

_He cried as loud as possible, hoping that someone would save him from his dark fate. However, cars and motorcycles just sped along the road as though nothing happened._

_A tight grip seized his left calf.  
_

_"Stupid boy. You think Mr. Rafael is just your average thug?" the man spat, dragging Brandon back into the alley. "He's a mafioso."_

_Brandon kept wailing, but his voice grew faint. His throat burned like the bleeding scrapes on his unprotected limbs.  
_

_Bang!_

_The grip loosened. Looking up, Brandon saw a tall, lanky man in a black jacket. His spiky brown hair swayed in the wind. His eyes were behind a pair of shades. A thin thread of smoke escaped from the gun in his hand.  
_

_"Wh-who are you?" Rafael's goon asked the man.  
_

_"I'm a man of Millennion." He fired his gun several times. "Marcus Thompson is my name."_

_Brandon looked back. The goon now lay on the ground, motionless with four gaping wounds on his torso._

_"'You Cardosi scums stole our territory, so you must die.' That's what you'll hear from my boss. From me? 'You stole our territory, but worst of all, you abused a helpless kid. You must die.'" Marcus holstered his gun before kneeling down. He smiled at Brandon. "It's okay now, kid. I'll take you home."  
_

_Brandon only replied with weak cries._

_"What's wrong?"_

_"Mr. Rafael came to our house and..." Brandon bawled loudly again. "He killed Mom and little sis!"_

_Marcus pulled away, his eyes widening. "Rafael Jones? Oh, crap!" He picked Brandon up. "Kid, I'll take you to my home, okay? You need a protection from that fiend."_

* * *

Brandon opened his teary eye. He still remembered Marcus, someone he used to call "Uncle" when he was six. However, Marcus left him in the town's orphanage a few weeks after adopting him. Knowing that the Cardosi would soon track him down, he decided to cut ties with Brandon.

Too bad he only understood Marcus' love after growing up, especially after becoming a hitman. He'd spent most of his childhood wondering about the abandonment, which tormented his psyche.

"Brandon? You're crying!"

Sitting up, he rubbed his eye at the girl's voice. Even before observing the surroundings, from that voice alone, he could tell that he'd arrived at home.

"You're hurt?"

"Silly girl. Necrolyzers can't feel pain."

 _Mika and Dr. Zach?_ Regaining his composure, he looked down. The IV stand beside him held a blood bag and a syringe pump; each of them had a line connected to the vein under his right clavicle. Below it, he found bleeding lacerations, claw and bite marks on all over his body.

Looking around, he saw Zach with a drenched gauze pad in his gloved hands. Mika stood behind him, pouring some saline solution into a tiny metallic bowl.

"It seemed like someone flogged you and left you to be a chew toy for the hellhounds," Zach explained, pressing the gauze pad against the wounds on Brandon's stomach. "Then I noticed something strange with the previous wound dressings. The gauze was covered with antibiotic ointment."

 _It's like they have a doctor with them. And the whip... They have flesh-softener solution?_ Brandon rubbed his bandaged face with a finger. _I think a mafia organization may be involved. But I don't recall offending any organization out there._


	5. Scars from the Past

"I thought I saw a green-skinned giant when they beat me up," Brandon told Zach and Mika. "But that's all I know. They sedated me whenever I moved."

"That's..." Mika murmured, tearing open a pack of gauze pads. "Um, it won't hurt you so much that way, but..." Her eyes traveled down his bandaged leg. The dirt and blood on the fabric formed a tread pattern. "No, that's still so mean of them!"

"What a smart move," Zach responded, still cleansing the gashes on Brandon's torso. "That way, you can never learn about them."

Brandon nodded. _But I bet Millennion agents now know where to look for them._ He looked at his wounds, which were red and gaping with a small amount of blood oozing out. For a moment, he wondered if he could join the agents when they searched the mountainous region of Billion. But in such condition, he couldn't possibly go out without upsetting Mika. Biscoe wouldn't let him work either, but if the mob boss changed his mind... No. Mika wouldn't hesitate to yell at Biscoe.

Zach pulled away and tossed the bloody gauze pad into the trash can. "Give me a piece of antibiotic-coated gauze, kiddo." But he didn't receive anything from Mika, even after many seconds passed. It prompted him to turn and stare at her.

Brandon shifted his gaze to Mika, who was busy applying antibiotic salve on the gauze. Zach might snap at her and start a squabble soon, so Brandon asked, "Doctor, why not use necrolyzation serum on the gauze?"

Zach turned to him, pointing at the syringe pump on the IV stand. "You're already receiving some refined serum. As your wounds heal, we just have to prevent infection. Antibiotics will do, so you don't have to waste too much money on the standard serum."

"Will my wounds heal slower because of using antibiotics instead of serum?"

"Aren't you supposed to know that already? Or maybe Dr. William never explained to you about how the serum works?"

Brandon kept his face straight, although he knew he'd made a wrong move. Any answer would lead to an unpleasant response, be it telling the truth or a lie. If he admitted that he knew it, Zach would call him a smartass. Meanwhile, if he lied by saying that he'd forgotten about the theory, Zach would make fun of him. On the other hand, if he said that William never explained about the serum, Zach would mock William.

"Doc," Mika suddenly called, "here's the gauze."

"Oh, well, forget about it. I have something to do." Zach turned to Mika, picking up the large piece of antibiotic-coated gauze in her gloved hands.

As the doctor placed the gauze on the wounds, Brandon smiled at Mika. His little girl responded to his tacit gratitude with a "you're welcome" smile.

Many minutes passed with Zach bandaging his torso. He wished Mika had wrapped that roll of fabric around him instead. Sure, the doctor could do it much faster with a neater result, but he just lacked the gentle hands Mika had. Also, whenever Mika treated his wounds, sweet memories would play in his mind. He would see Maria, Mika's mother and his old love, cleansing the scrapes on his limbs.

He wondered how his life would've been if he had married her. It would've been great to have someone comfort you whenever you were sad, prepare your meal whenever you were hungry, bake tasty fruit pies whenever you wanted some sweet snacks... But that was selfish. He was a hitman, someone who murdered people on regular basis for money. If the family of his victims decided to take revenge on him, they would target Maria as well.

Memories of his last moments with Marcus flooded his mind all of a sudden.

* * *

_Today, Marcus brought a six-year-old Brandon to what a kid would describe as a house with a playground. Many children either ran around its massive yard or played with the seesaws, swings, or slides._

_As Marcus spoke to the chubby, brown-haired man inside the house, Brandon looked through the window. He smiled, wondering how soon he could join those happy kids. He turned to Marcus, mentally urging his busy uncle to stop talking with the man already._

_His wish came true about a minute later. But he noticed something strange with Marcus; the man walked towards him with tears brimming in his eyes._ _He'd miss him as he had fun perhaps? Curious, Brandon rushed to him and gave him a big hug._

_Marcus returned the hug. "Have fun. I'll miss you."_

_Brandon couldn't help but giggle. How strange. He'd never thought that his Uncle Marcus would cry at something so simple. "But Uncle will come back to take me home, right?"_

_As Marcus pulled away, Brandon heard a sorrowful, "No."_

_That word slammed right into his fragile heart. Tearing up, he asked, "Why?" Marcus simply walked past him and towards the exit door, but he insisted, "Why, Uncle? Why?" Still receiving no answer, he decided to question something that broke his heart further. "Was it because I was a bad boy? Was it because I screamed every night and woke you up?" When Marcus had reached and opened the door, Brandon ran towards his uncle. "Please don't leave me, Uncle! I'm so sorry!"_

_Marcus turned around, telling him in a painful, yet gentle voice, "I understand that, kid. You said you had nightmares about Rafael and his goons every night, so I understand if you often wake up and scream and cry at night." Tears trickled down his cheeks as he patted Brandon's head. "See? I don't leave you because of that. I leave you because..." He looked down. "I'm a hitman, a murderer. People will soon make me pay for my crimes."_

_Brandon only stood still with a gaping mouth. If his uncle had to pay for his crimes, how could it possibly involve Brandon?_

_Marcus turned away. "I'm sure that you won't understand what I mean right now. But when you grow up, especially if you happen to be a hitman, you'll understand why." Stepping out, before closing the door, he said, "I love you, Brandon."_

* * *

"Brandon, you're crying again! You're hurt?"

Brandon jerked away in shock. Thanks to a gentle swipe across his eye, he quickly regained his focus. Mika stood beside him with a slightly wet piece of gauze in her hands, her blue eyes showing a great deal of concern.

He heard Zach say from afar, "Quit it, stupid girl. Necrolyzers can't feel pain."

Mika stared at Zach and hissed, "Shut up, old geezer. I'm not finished with my question." She looked back at him and wiped his tears with the gauze. "You remembered something bad? Somebody hurt you?"

Brandon sat still. He couldn't say that Marcus did something bad to him; the mafioso might've left him in the orphanage, but it was for his sake. If Brandon had stayed with him, when Rafael attacked Marcus, he would've died or worse, ended up as a child slave.

It seemed like Mika read his almost non-existent reaction as: "Not really, but I'll explain later." She smiled and pulled away, handing Brandon the gauze before heading to the trolley.

He shifted his attention to Zach. The doctor's face remained straight as he cleansed Brandon's mangled leg, but from the doctor's long silence, Brandon could tell that he wasn't pleased with his defeat.

An hour later, after bandaging Brandon's leg and removing all the infusions, Zach told him, "Your wounds are still healing, but I doubt you like spending the rest of your day inside the trailer. If you're sick of the colorless environment of this trailer, you may go out and wander around the parking basement." He looked at Mika, who was throwing the used bandage and gauze into the trash can. "Just tell your little girl to get your wheelchair ready. Don't worry. A few movements won't reopen your wounds as long as you're careful."

* * *

When Zach had left, Mika dragged a swivel chair towards Brandon's bed. "Um, I think the doctor forgot to tell you the good news. When you were sleeping, he told me that your wounds might heal as early as tomorrow." She sat on the chair and smiled. "Your wounds are superficial, so they'll heal very fast."

Brandon nodded with a broad smile. Not that he took pleasure in destroying those monsters for torturing him; instead, he only wanted to prevent them from harming his family. They'd said that they wouldn't involve Millennion, but what if they had a change of heart?

"So, I wanna ask something," Mika told him. "Why did you cry earlier?"

"I just remembered what happened when I first arrived at the orphanage." Brandon covered his face with his bandaged palm. "Although Uncle Marcus left me for my own good, remembering him always makes me sad."

"He left you for your own good? What do you mean?"

"He happened to kill someone from the Cardosi," Brandon explained, his tears seeping into his bandage. "He knew they'd want him dead soon, so he cut his ties with me. But that... It felt like losing my dad for the second time." Suddenly, he felt a light grip on his forearm. Looking ahead, he saw Mika put his arm down on the armrest.

"Don't make the bandage wet, okay?" She moved closer to him. "Um, did you just say losing your dad for the second time? How?"

"Uncle Marcus raised me after Rafael Jones from the Cardosi killed my parents," Brandon replied. "He saved me from that bastard's goons." An image of a brawny man dragging him into an alley flashed in his mind, and he screamed, "They tried to _traffic_ me! I ran away, but Rafael's goon knocked me down and _dragged_ me around!"

Mika's eyes widened. They then brimmed with tears. "Sorry for asking." Standing up, she reached out her arms to hug him. "I'm really sorry."

Brandon hugged her back.

"I wish I can make you feel better, but...I'll try." Mika nuzzled the crook of his neck. "Back then, when Mom was shot and I was getting chased around by those necrolyzed monsters, I thought I was the unluckiest person alive. It was even worse when I heard that Dad was shot before I was born. But I was wrong. Those monsters just threatened to kill me, nothing else."

"You're far luckier than I am, Mika," Brandon whispered. "When you grow up, you won't have to live in the streets. Your dad is Millennion's founder."

"So?"

"You'll inherit a lot of wealth. Money? Your dad had over one hundred billion yules in his bank accounts. Mansions? Your dad had two in the town. Butlers and maids aren't a big deal with the amount of money you have. Job? You'll lead Millennion." Tearing up even more, he smiled. "You have a great future."

"You're right." She pulled away. "Um, why don't we just do something happier? Like watching the TV at the guard post?" She wiped her eyes. "I bet Nancy must still be watching some cartoons."

Shocked, Brandon stifled a nod. If Mika hadn't mentioned that kid's name, he wouldn't have remembered her.

"Huh? Don't worry. I know you have a lot going in your mind, so I understand if you forget about her." She paused. "By the way, she's fine. Dr. Zach told me that the figure eight brace would keep her broken collarbone stable."

Mika walked past his bed. For a few seconds, Brandon heard some rummaging sounds. When the noise stopped, he saw Mika coming to him with a folded white t-shirt and black shorts in her hands. After handing him the clothes, she headed to the back of his bed again. This time, she returned with a wheelchair.

After putting on his clothes, he pushed the "down" button on the bottom of the remote control beside his bed. The lower part of his bed sank to form a leg rest. Placing his hand on the armrest beside him, he pushed himself up to a standing position and turned. Then he dropped down, bringing about a harsh creak.

Mika giggled from behind. "You're lucky that your wheelchair is very strong."

Brandon glanced over his shoulder and nodded with a grin.

* * *

Wandering around the parking basement in his wheelchair always filled his heart with joy. Most people - especially his nature-loving driver Albert - often thought of him as a weirdo, because this was a noisy, dusty maze of cars, not a peaceful forest. People wouldn't get to inhale fresh air and listen to the chirping birds here.

But if those people knew him as well as Mika did, they'd know his reason. Not that he liked the environment; instead, during a trip like this, his child's sincere love radiated like the heat from the sun. Mika knew he weighed over one hundred kilograms, yet she'd keep pushing his wheelchair to their destination, only stopping when Brandon asked her to.

Today, though, something else stopped Mika. From a quick scan of the surroundings, Brandon thought Mika had read his mind; he'd have told her to stop pushing at the sight as well. Three guards surrounded Albert, who had a spear and a hatchet in his hands.

"Let me pass! You don't even know what's going on with Mr. Brandon!" Albert yelled at them. "He lost his guns!"

Brandon's eye widened. He _lost_ Cerberus? Sitting still, he recalled whatever had happened earlier. He let the necrolyzed beings drag him all the way to their base, and in the middle of the journey, the tranquilizer knocked him out. There, after stripping him to his waist, they flogged him while leaving the hellhounds to play with his helpless body...

The enemies had his guns right now.

"Why doesn't anybody believe me? I just want to bring these to his trailer!"

"For what?" one of the guards asked.

"For Mr. Brandon so that he can protect himself!"

Brandon only needed to hear up to that point, and so did Mika. They moved towards the bickering men.

The men in black immediately looked at them. "It's Mr. Brandon and Miss Mika," one of them said. "You two decide what we should do with Albert."

"I'm just trying to help you!" Albert shouted.

Brandon and Mika looked at each other before nodding. None of them needed to say a thing to know they had the same thing in mind.

"So?"

"Let him pass," Mika commanded.

"Huh?"

"Let him pass!" Mika shouted, which led to silence and shocked faces.

Albert cracked a smile a few seconds later. Once the other guards moved aside, he rushed towards Brandon and Mika. "Thank you. Let's go to the trailer now? I need some flesh softener solution for these things."

"Let's go to the guard post first," Mika told Albert. "I've promised him to go watch TV together."

Albert laughed. "Oh, really?" He smirked at Brandon. "You must be happy to have such a good girl by your side."

Brandon nodded.

It took three minutes for them to reach the guard post. Nancy and Daniel sat on a bench, their eyes fixated at the hanging TV above. Something felt a bit off with Nancy, from what Brandon saw. Daniel, Mika, and Albert had burst into a fit of laughter at the sight of the anthropomorphic cat and dog hoisting a big fridge out of the house, while Nancy just stared vacantly at the screen.

"Wasn't it funny, little one?" Daniel told Nancy with a smile. "'Take what's yours with you and get out!' And those gluttonous pets just nabbed the fridge."

Nancy replied with nothing. Brandon wheeled himself towards the little girl and waved his hand at her, but he earned no response.

"Um, Sir, I think there's something wrong with her," Daniel asked. "She's been so numb."

 _She can't stomach so many deaths_ , Brandon concluded, moving closer to her. He knew he wouldn't get any response from the little girl, but he pulled her into his one-armed embrace anyway.

Much to his surprise, he could hear her say, "Mr. Brandon, I want to go home, but I'm so scared."

She could've asked Daniel to walk her back to the trailer, but Brandon understood why she didn't do it. Earlier, Nick couldn't protect her from the necrolyzed beings. Brandon thought maybe that incident made her think that no Millennion guardsmen could protect her. Meanwhile, because Brandon had saved her from those monsters, her mind seemed to brand him as her guardian angel.

_It's not so different from how I reacted to the water pistols at the orphanage. Rafael shot Mom dead, so I just saw them as real guns._

"I'll protect you," he told Nancy with a smile. "Let's go back."

* * *

If Albert hadn't visited the trailer, Brandon would've spent his time with Nancy. A scarred girl - especially the one who had grown to trust him so much - needed his love. But Brandon had always defined love as two things: protection, loyalty. So, as much as he wanted to play with the little girl, he'd better finish his business with Albert first. Sitting still on his wheelchair, he watch Albert dip the hatchet's bit in a small bucket of flesh softener solution.

"Because you don't have any weapons, I'll give you my camping hatchet," Albert said, pulling the hatchet back. "This thing may be small, but it's fitting for a one-armed man like you. You can swing it quickly and hack through many things in a minute."

"Can it cleave through skulls?"

Albert snickered, swinging the hatchet downwards so that the liquid on the bit would fall into the bucket. "I didn't dip it in flesh softener solution for no good reason, Sir." Once no more fluid dripped from the blade, Albert turned to Brandon and handed him the hatchet. "Done."

Brandon nodded. "Thank you, Albert." He flipped the hatchet in the air, and once he caught it, he couldn't help but feel like wanting to fight again soon. The thing in his hand now was clearly a hatchet, but it felt like holding Cerberus.

"You're welcome, Sir." Albert suddenly stared at him, his eyes showing suspicion. "I thought you had something else in your mind. Remember, I gave you this hatchet so that you could protect yourself and your kids until Millennion retrieves Cerberus or crafts something else for you. Not for you to go looking for troubles out there."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caught the reference to Tom and Jerry?


	6. Protectiveness

Protecting your family was worth the trouble; Brandon thought Albert needed to know that. After fighting for your loved ones, maybe you would come home bruised, battered, and bloody, but you had reduced the threat to your family. However, if you fought just because you felt you wanted to, you would get hurt and worst of all, do nothing good for your family's survival.

Although Brandon only had a hatchet as a weapon, he thought he would head to the guard post and have a chat with Daniel and other guardsmen. Who knew they'd say something about Biscoe's next plan? Maybe the old mob boss wouldn't involve him in any missions right now, but Brandon planned to join the Millennion agents.

As he wheeled towards the exit door, though, a girl called out to him, "Mr. Brandon, where are you going?"

He glanced over his shoulder to see Nancy and Mika walk towards him.

"You want to go out again?" Mika grabbed the wheelchair's handles. "I'll help you."

"Don't leave me alone!" Nancy yelled, tearing up. "I'm scared!"

Mika smiled at the girl. "You can join us."

"But I don't really like it out there."

If these two - especially Mika - joined him, they'd make a fuss once they knew what he wanted to do.

"I'm just going to the guard post for a chat," Brandon told them. "I'll be right back."

"A chat?" Mika raised an eyebrow. "That's...unusual."

Any further interactions with Mika would botch his attempt to join the agents, so he pushed the door open without saying anything. He pulled the lever on the wall beside it, summoning a ramp that connected the trailer's ledge to the basement's concrete floor.

Moving down the slope, he heard quiet sobs. He stopped in his tracks and looked back. Nancy, who now rested in Mika's embrace, had tears streaming down her face.

_Are you going to leave her like that? Just to help the agents?  
_

Brandon looked down and growled. Why couldn't his heart stop pestering him? He just wanted to find and slay the mastermind of the case as fast as he could. Once the culprit died, Nancy wouldn't have to worry about getting killed anymore.

"Mr. Brandon, come back!"

When he heard that, he couldn't help but recall his mistake this morning. Covering his face with his bandaged palm, he remembered when Mika told him about the kids leaving the tower to find their dad. If he hadn't stayed at William's house as an attempt to ambush the enemies, Nick and Nina wouldn't have died, and Nancy wouldn't have suffered so much.

Slowly and silently, he turned around and went up the ramp. Nancy followed him as he moved towards the rows of comic-laden carton containers behind his recliner. After picking up one of the books, he wheeled towards his metallic armchair with the little girl in tow.

Biscoe didn't give Brandon his daughter's Donald Duck comics for no good reason.

* * *

An hour passed with Brandon, Mika, and Nancy reading the comic on his lap. Usually, Brandon would only smirk at something hilarious, but he eventually burst out laughing as Mika sang Tweedy Teentwirp's song in the story.

"When I melt your heart, I'll find it hard to dispose of all the...lard?" Mika laughed, closing the comic book. " _The Queen of the Wild Dog Pack_ is full of funny lines!"

Brandon stopped laughing and looked at Nancy, who stared at the comic vacantly. He poked Mika in the back, prompting her to look at the lethargic Nancy.

"You want more funny stories?" Mika asked the girl.

Nancy nodded slightly, her face an impassive mask.

"Okay." Mika climbed down Brandon's lap slowly to avoid reopening his wounds. As she made her way to the back of the armchair, Brandon waved a hand before her eyes. She stopped in her tracks. "What is it?"

Brandon whispered into her right ear, "Something's wrong with Nancy. I think we should call Dr. William, but please keep her away from me. She'd better not hear my talk with the doctor."

Mika nodded. After putting away the comic book, she went for her mobile phone and gave it to Brandon. "Uh, well..." She gently held Nancy's little arm. "I think the trailer isn't looking good. Let's clean it together?"

"Huh?"

"I'll show you how to sweep the floor and wipe a table properly."

Sitting still, Nancy looked back at Brandon.

"I like a clean trailer," he told her. "Make me proud."

With a nod, Nancy left Brandon's lap. Unlike Mika, she ended up tugging at his bandage a few times. Her tiny hands lacked the strength to do any damage, fortunately.

Once Mika and Nancy had stayed far enough from him, he dialed William's number.

The doctor answered a few beeps later, "Hello?"

"Evening, Doc. I need to tell you something."

"I hope Nancy's okay."

"She's helping Mika with the household chores." After hearing William's sigh of relief, he lowered his voice. "But she doesn't seem fine. She's been rather numb."

"I beg your pardon?"

"She's a bit numb. She never smiled or laughed at something funny. Also, she doesn't feel comfortable outside."

William gulped. "She's been like that since Nina died?"

"Yeah."

"This is bad. I'll come over." Then the call went out.

Putting down the phone, Brandon sighed. Wouldn't the doctor's lonely, unprotected presence on the streets seem tempting? They might just kidnap and torture him.

His worry went unnoticed only for about a minute. Mika asked from beside him, "What's wrong?"

Brandon pointed at his prosthetic leg, which rested against the wall behind Mika and Nancy.

"You want to go out?" Mika looked at his bandaged arm. "But it's dangerous out there. Your wounds can reopen."

"Helping the basement guards isn't a dangerous job."

"Liar! You often tell me that whenever you want to leave the building!" Mika snapped at him. "I won't let you!"

Brandon replied with a growl. Unless he wanted to hurt the poor little Nancy, he'd better not say anything about what might happen to William... But no. Nancy would suffer worse if the enemies captured William and beat him senseless.

Taking a deep breath, he muttered, "Dr. William is coming over. I doubt those monsters would let him wander freely."

"Uncle!" Nancy suddenly wailed. Her body went limp a few seconds later, and Mika caught it before it hit the metallic floor.

Mika stared at Brandon. "You went too far! How could you say such a thing in front of her?"

"Bring my prosthesis here!"

"No!"

Brandon roared, ripped the armrest off and threw it away. Path cleared, he rolled to his side and smashed into the ground. Undeterred, he inched towards his artificial leg. Nothing would stop him from donning his prosthesis and leaving the trailer. Not even Mika.

Outside, as he stormed towards the elevator, dozens of guardsmen led by Albert stood in his way.

"I know you are unlikely to stay put." Albert pointed his spear at Brandon. "We can't let you leave this building. You're too injured to fight." As Brandon took a step ahead, he added, "Don't move!"

Brandon flicked Albert away as though he was an ant. The spear-wielding man slammed into another guard before crashing to the ground altogether.

"Boss will be mad at us, but we really have to beat you back to the trailer," one of the standing guards said. "This is for you and Miss Mika!" He and two other guards rushed towards Brandon, only to receive a flick to the head and fell. His two comrades decided to halt and catch his tumbling body.

Face hardened with defiance and determination, Brandon wiggled a finger at the guards.

Everybody moved aside instead of charging at him, so he pressed on. When he pushed the "up" button beside the elevator, he stared at the shiny metallic doors.

Two fools jumped at him. Guided by the reflection on the doors, he backhanded them with a single swipe.

"Shouldn't have bothered trying to stop you," a guardsman commented from behind.

The doors opened, and Brandon stepped into the elevator.

* * *

He left the ground level parking lot without a fuss. Maybe the guards there had known about the uproar downstairs. But whatever made them so tame, it helped him carry out his duty.

Stars sparkled around the glowing crescent in the dark blue sky. The street lamps beneath them illuminated the streets while attracting swarms of moths. Brandon walked down the lonely pavement, his wild white mane fluttering in the breeze.

Throughout his journey, he found nothing. _It makes sense_ , he thought, _because those monsters are very secretive so far. If they ever attack the area around the tower, it won't be good for them_. Although his observation and deduction told him that no undead would pop out of the darkness, he would still keep his ears perked up and his eye wide open. He had gone out to find and protect William from _anything_.

Many minutes passed without any encounters. However, Brandon continued his search while looking left and right, focusing more on the road than the alleys. He hadn't counted how long it had been since William hung up the phone, but he had a hunch that the doctor was nearby.

A few steps later, a silver sedan moved closer to the pavement before stopping. Looking through the descending window, Brandon saw William. The doctor's tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes hinted that he had cried quite a lot today.

The doctor's eyes widened. "D-did I put you in so much trouble? You're bandaged from head to toe!"

Brandon shook his head with a smile. "Protecting people is my duty, especially kids."

William pushed a button on the door beside him, and a click resounded amid the droning engine. "Get in, Sir. At least, let me drive you back to the tower."

With a nod, Brandon opened the door and entered the car. He really liked the cool wind from the air conditioners and the mellow piano tune from the radio, but those didn't delight him more than the ability to keep William safe.

Once he closed the door, William told him, "Seat belt."

Brandon remained still. If he wished to react to an assault instantly, he'd be better off without any restraint. Never mind about bumping his head against something when an accident happened; his skull had broken countless metallic objects.

After a long moment of silence, William stepped on the gas pedal. "Okay." When the car moved, he asked, "Why are you looking so grim? Is protecting people so stressful?"

"The people around me make it a stressful chore," Brandon grumbled. "They often try to prevent me from protecting people."

"Because you're injured. I know you're very resilient. Everybody does, too. But you can't possibly keep putting yourself in harm's way every single day."

"I can. Injuries? They'll be patched up when I'm done with my job."

"What about lost limbs?"

Brandon kept silent, unable to counter William's question. Honestly, he did lose an arm and a leg due to pushing himself so hard, but... Ah, screw it. He could just devise a way to protect people while keeping his remaining limbs intact.

"I just want you to be safe, Sir. If you die or end up with worse handicaps, Miss Mika will be very sad," William said. "Don't make her cry again. She's lost so many people in her life."

 _As if I am a frail old man_ , a sulky Brandon sputtered in his heart.

The two spoke no more after that.

It took about five minutes for them to reach the tower. As the car entered the parking lot, William opened the window to greet the guardsmen.

"Mr. Brandon is with you?" the man in shades asked.

"Yes," William replied.

The guard poked his head into the car and told Brandon, "Sir, Miss Mika is looking for you downstairs."

Brandon sighed. He doubted Mika would let him go without a fight this time. Sure, he could just knock her out and leave, but he wouldn't want to break his own heart again. A similar incident happened last year, and that punch to the gut... That painful memory had yet to vanish.

The car soon moved again and headed towards a massive ramp. As it descended, Brandon spotted Mika and a group of guardsmen standing in the distance. Once the car arrived on the flat terrain, Mika and Albert rushed to the vehicle.

William stopped the car and pushed a button on the door beside him. "Seems like they want to talk to you."

As the window slid down, Mika told Brandon, "Um, you forgot something." She showed the camping hatchet in her right hand.

Brandon's eye widened. He'd forgotten his weapon! Luckily, no necrolyzed beings had attacked them earlier. Taking the hatchet, he said, "Thank you."

With the window sliding back up, Mika retreated and gave him a tearful smile. "Good luck."

Feeling a searing pain in his chest, Brandon looked down. This didn't feel right. His child loved him and didn't want him to be angry, so she forced herself to follow his erroneous ways.

The engine stopped humming. Jarred out of his trance, Brandon looked around. William had parked his car beside the trailer.

"Take me to Nancy," William requested, unlocking the doors.

Brandon nodded and left the car. Outside, he motioned William towards the entrance of his trailer and opened the metallic door. Upon entering his home, he stood still and waited for William to come in.

The doctor immediately walked towards the steel bench on which Nancy slept. Stroking the sleeping girl's head, he told her, "Nancy, it's Uncle William."

The girl didn't reply until William called her for the second time. Slowly opening her eyes, she murmured, "Uncle...?"

"Follow Uncle, okay? Uncle and Mr. Brandon will protect you." William turned to Brandon. "I'll be taking her to a psychiatrist." When Brandon quirked an eyebrow, the doctor added, "I doubt this will go away without psychotherapy."

Brandon nodded, watching Nancy get up. Suddenly, a set of light footsteps came from beside him. Looking down at his right side, he saw Mika.

"You'll be accompanying Dr. William?"

Brandon responded with a smile and a nod.

"Come back safely, okay?" After earning another nod from Brandon, she continued, "There's something we've been hiding from you, Brandon." She paused. "It's to protect you, but...you'll later know about this and get angry."

"Miss Mika," William spoke from behind, "don't tell me that you-"

Mika glanced over her shoulder. "Doc, he'll be happier this way." She looked back up at Brandon. "Mr. Biscoe sent some scouts to the mountainous region about two hours ago. Just join them after accompanying Dr. William." Her tone sounded sincere, but her eyes couldn't hide her pain.

 _She's sacrificing her happiness for mine because of me_ , Brandon concluded, his face sagging. _I don't like that._ For a moment, the image of hellhounds tearing Millennion agents to shreds flashed in his mind, but he quickly dismissed it. _Sorry. Mika's happiness comes first._ He placed a hand on her head and forced a smile. "I prefer staying at home."

"You..." She looked into his eye. "You don't look so happy either." She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his belly. "It's okay. Just come back safely."

If this would make Mika happier, then so be it. Besides, nothing delighted him more than being able to prevent some deaths. "I will," he told her. "Thank you for your understanding."

Mika pulled away with a smile. "It's what a family does, isn't it?"

* * *

Everybody's cooperation surprised Brandon. Albert had offered to drive him, William, and Nancy to the psychiatrist, saying that he'd help protect Brandon with his spear. William had even offered to stay at the trailer so that he could take care of Brandon after the necrolyzer helped the scouts. Really, Mika seemed to have so much influence on Millennion's people. Maybe because everybody knew she understood Brandon much better than anybody else.

It took about thirty minutes for them to arrive at their destination, and much to Brandon's surprise, no undead attacked them although they had Nancy in the car. Maybe the monsters knew the risk of revealing too much information. Or maybe they didn't know a lot about the city area, which might come across as a labyrinth for those who came from the outskirts of Billion. If the latter was correct, then Brandon could exclude local mafia organizations from the list of suspects.

Once Albert had parked the car in front of the clinic's entrance and unlocked the doors, William said, "I think you'd better stay here. People don't welcome necrolyzers." As he opened the door, he told Nancy, "Mr. Brandon won't be following us, but he'll guard the entrance. Don't be afraid."

Nancy only looked at Brandon, who flipped the camping hatchet in the air and nodded.

"The bad guys won't stand a chance against him." William stepped out of the car. "Come on, Nancy."

The girl looked at William. "I'm scared."

"Mr. Brandon is around, so it's safe. Come on."

Nancy finally left with shaky limbs.

As William and Nancy walked into the clinic, Albert began, "Whew, dealing with a traumatized kid is _that_ hard."

Brandon nodded. He used to be one back then; every night, he would scream at the nightmares about Rafael showing his father's severed head, killing his mother, and ordering his underling to catch him. Upon waking up, he would feel like being dragged along a rough pavement by Rafael's goon, which made him cry harder. Luckily, Uncle Marcus would comfort him and lull him back to sleep after that.

Suddenly, he heard a ringing phone from beside him. Albert picked it up.

"Evening. Huh?" Albert handed the phone to him. "It's Mr. Norton. He wants to talk."

Brandon put it beside his ear. "Good evening."

"Brandon, when will you be home?"

"In about two hours I think."

"Hmm..." A pause. "Well? That damned Biscoe has been hiding something from you."

"About the scouts?"

"How did you know?"

Brandon smiled a bit. "Mika told me right before I went out. She thought I'd go help them after accompanying Dr. William."

"Too late," Norton grumbled. "They're all dead."

Brandon's eye widened in shock. If only he had gone to the mountains instead of accompanying William... But what about the doctor then? He could only look down with a frown.

"At least, they've sent us something important before they perished," Norton said. "It's the picture of... I think this green-skinned giant is their right-hand man." He paused. "Dr. William certainly knows this guy, so bring him along when you come home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Caught the reference to Carl Barks' The Queen of the Wild Dog Pack?


	7. The Bonehacker

"Someone Dr. William knows?" Albert blinked before smiling and snapping his fingers. "Ah, just like I thought!"

Brandon remained still. Since William had taken care of him for about a year, he knew the kind of person the doctor was. William never liked picking a fight; however, if someone ever mistreated a patient in front of him, he might want to start one. Whenever Norton forced Brandon to fight despite his injuries, William, along with Mika, would yell at the second-in-command of Millennion. Maybe the doctor had once done the same thing out there and offended the wrong person.

"But I wonder who," Albert added. "Another mafia organization?"

"I believe he once rejected a contract from them," Brandon said. "Right now, Dr. William is the most experienced doctor in Necrolyzation Project. All crime organizations will do anything to recruit him."

"Maybe. Let's ask him when he gets back."

Thirty minutes passed; to save fuel, Albert had shut down the car and left the windows open. Most Millennion drivers would try to smoke at such times, but Brandon would only flick the cigarette out the window. If he were in the mood to talk, he'd scold them for polluting the car as well. Albert, however, never smoked anyway, believing it would damage his lungs.

Ten minutes later, the tedium became overwhelming. Nobody talked. No music or news came out of the radio. The howling night breeze was all Brandon felt and heard during the wait. Maybe he'd be better off sleeping... No. One shouldn't fall asleep on a guard duty.

After another tedious minute, he looked at Albert. The driver was playing _Snake_ on his mobile phone. Brandon chuckled; watching the snake's growing body and Albert's attempts to avoid crashing into it cured his boredom.

"Um, what?" Albert shifted his gaze to Brandon. "You wanna play, Sir?"

Brandon grinned when the snake's head collided with the body. A big "Game Over" then appeared on the screen.

"You distracted me!" Albert laughed. "Well, try beating my high score."

Suddenly, Brandon's ears registered some incoming footsteps. He glanced over his shoulder and spotted William and Nancy.

"Maybe next time?" Albert asked, returning his phone to his coat pocket before twisting the car key. The engine came to life with a roar.

William opened the door, allowing Nancy to enter the car first before following behind her. "What are you two talking about?"

"Playing a mobile game, Doc," Albert replied. "I was just thinking of letting Brandon play _Snake_ and break my record. Then you came."

"Seems like I spoiled the fun." William laughed, sitting down and closing the door. As the car began to move, he told Brandon, "You've been a big help, Sir. Thanks to you, I was able to get help for my niece quickly. I still have to take her to the psychiatrist regularly, but she'll get better soon." Beside him, a lethargic Nancy only nodded slightly.

Brandon nodded. "I'm just doing my job."

"People say you're a friend they can count on. Guess they're right." William leaned against the seat and placed his hands behind his head. "You lost your leg when protecting your friend last year, didn't you?"

Brandon nodded. He didn't feel like sharing the details, though, because Albert would surely point out his so-called stupidity that time.

"His _treasonous_ friend, to be exact. It was the craziest thing in this world," Albert spoke for him. "He was betrayed and killed by his best friend. Then he came back to life...to forgive him." Albert shrugged. "If I were Mr. Brandon, I'd just kill that bastard. Or better, I'd just report him to the higher-ups before he betrayed me."

Brandon sighed. _There he goes._

"What?" William quirked an eyebrow, leaning forward. He poked his head through the space between Brandon's and Albert's seat. "You mean, Mr. Brandon already knew Harry would betray and kill him?"

"You don't know about that?"

William shook his head. "He never told me anything about it."

"He never told me either. I just heard it from some senior enforcers." Albert steered the wheel. "Well, he never really reacted to it. People guessed he had no proof, but considering how good he was with the boss, I thought he wouldn't need any."

Glaring at Albert, Brandon growled, "Harry was just a man consumed by ambition and greed. He can be a good man again if he's given the chance."

"Sir, this is a cruel world. There's no place for such an unconditional love. Your life would've been much better if-"

"You're wrong, Mr. Albert," William interrupted, his tone remained calm. "This world would be much better if there were more people like Mr. Brandon."

"I bet there were people who tried to be, but they just couldn't survive."

Although Brandon preferred William's opinion, he simply began, "Doc, Mr. Norton wants to see you at the trailer."

"Can't believe that I've almost forgotten about that! Well, Doc, we now know that the second-in-command of the case might be a green-skinned giant. Mr. Norton said you knew him."

"I knew this green-skinned giant?" William pulled away and shrugged. "Who's that anyway?"

"Maybe someone you once offended?"

"I don't think so." William scratched his head. "Well, admittedly, I did reject the contracts from two other crime organizations, but that was last year. I can't believe that they're still that desperate after a year."

"It's possible," Brandon told William. "Maybe after a year of searching, they still can't find someone as good as you."

"By the way, whose contracts have you rejected?" Albert asked.

"The Corsione's and the Lazaro's."

* * *

As Brandon entered the trailer with William and Nancy behind him, he saw Norton. The fat old man sat at the desk, shifting his gaze from his laptop to Brandon.

From the steel bench across the desk, Mika walked towards Nancy. Nobody except Brandon seemed to notice her forced smile. "Let's wait outside." She held the little girl's hand. "Mr. Norton has something private to discuss with Brandon and Dr. William." Nancy only looked at her, confused, so she added, "It won't take too long."

William patted Nancy's back. "Just wait for Uncle."

After receiving a reassuring smile from Brandon, the girl finally left the trailer with Mika.

Once the girls closed the door, Norton began sternly, "Dr. William, can you guess why I'm telling your niece to leave?"

Together with Brandon, William approached Norton. "I have no clue, Sir."

Norton moved the laptop's mouse, turning the 3D pipe animation into a blue screen with his name and an empty textbox. He typed something into the white field and pressed the Enter key on the keyboard. "You'll know why in a few seconds. Let me show you who is the second-in-command of these people."

The two images that replaced the fading blue screen brought about widened eyes. The first picture showed a green-skinned giant on the porch of a mountainside villa. He had a scar and a dent on the right side of his hairless head. When Brandon looked closer at the picture, he noticed a bulge on the necrolyzer's stomach and a coiled whip strapped to the right side of his belt. The second picture showed Bernard's empty grave on the town's cemetery.

"No!" William wailed, slowly falling to his knees. His arms prevented his face and body from hitting the metallic ground. "My poor brother..." His hands balled into fists. "What has he become?"

No Millennion man may hurt the higher-ups in the organization, but this time, Brandon might want to break that rule. He put down his hatchet on the table and eyed Norton's movements closely.

"See for yourself." Norton stood up and reached out his hand to seize William by the back of his collar. Brandon caught Norton's arm and pulled it back. "Let me go, Brandon." The old man stared at him. "He must've necrolyzed his own brother."

Brandon returned the glare. "Proof?"

"Someone must've fed Dr. Bernard some serum before he died. This means Dr. Bernard received some serum in the ICU." Norton turned to William. "There had to be a collaborator with the nurses. The ICU visitors are the main suspects, especially those who know about necrolyzation."

"Get the CCTV footage from the ICU first. And study the ownership of the villa."

"The villa is ours, and we're still waiting for someone to buy it," Norton groused. "But as if that'll happen! Nobody is interested in passing the notorious West District just to reach that place. That information doesn't help much, does it?"

"Doesn't mean that you have the right to deem someone guilty that fast."

Norton glared at William. "All right, Doc. You may leave now, but under the guards' surveillance. Tell the kids to stay outside until I come out." Brandon released his hand, allowing him to cross his arms over his chest. "However, when I call you tomorrow, you have to come to the chairman's office ASAP. We may have found something that may just prove your innocence."

William stood up, revealing his tear-stained cheeks. "Y-yes, Sir." He limped past Norton and towards the exit door. "Thank you."

Once the doctor left, Norton grumbled, "Forget about the past and friendship, Brandon. They won't do you any good here."

"As I've said, you don't have the right to deem someone guilty that fast. Besides, Dr. Bernard wouldn't kill his own family like that. Another organization must be involved, and maybe they killed the Rutherford family because Dr. Bernard was being rebellious."

"It doesn't matter," Norton argued back, casting a cold glare at Brandon, "because you're sure to do something stupid when it's proven that Dr. William is guilty. You always bring friendship into consideration."

The old man was likely referring to the incident with Harry. Honestly, Norton was the foolish one, because only through love and forgiveness did the treasonous Harry become Brandon's best friend again. Too bad that Harry died shortly after crying and apologizing to Brandon, depriving him of the chance to atone for his crimes.

"Let me tell you. You'll someday learn that you can't be that noble forever." After a long pause, he continued, "By the way, I don't think we can just rely on the CCTV footage. The culprit has some serum, so there seems to be something suspicious in our lab."

"It can also come from other crime organizations."

"Yes, but it's a horrible idea to spy on another organization's lab. Uninvited guests are no more than fish food in the underworld." Norton's glare faded. "Go check our research facility tomorrow, Brandon. That's the best for you."

"About the CCTV footage?"

"Biscoe and I will send some men to get it. Just go to the lab. Also, before searching, do visit Dr. Douglas or any of his teammates." When Brandon quirked an eyebrow, Norton explained, "You need something to replace your lost guns, don't you?"

Brandon nodded.

Pointing at the hatchet on the desk, Norton snickered. "That little hatchet won't help much against bigger necrolyzed monsters. Well, Biscoe has ordered Dr. Douglas' team to create something for you. The Bonehacker should be done at 10AM tomorrow."

"Bonehacker?"

"A big axe made from the bones of necrolyzed beings. I heard they'd reinforce it with alloy to prevent the bone from disintegrating, but whatever they'd do, this weapon lets you wreak havoc without having to worry about ammo."

* * *

Brandon lay on his bed, waiting for Mika to join him. He didn't know whether he should smile or frown. He felt happy because he would receive a new weapon, something that would help him protect Millennion. On the other hand, the fact that William might be guilty saddened him. If William truly committed such a heinous act, would Brandon ever have the heart to execute him? Memories of William teaching a bedridden Brandon the basic limb exercises for amputees flashed across his mind. The doctor lifted the bandaged stump of Brandon's right leg gently, smiling as he explained the movements Brandon had to do regularly.

 _Dr. William would never do that_ , he thought to himself as he watched Mika guide a sleepy Nancy to the bench. That poor girl's facial expression still hadn't changed. _I can't imagine what will become of her if her uncle is proven to be guilty...  
_

"Sleep well, okay?" Mika kissed the little girl on her forehead. "Brandon will protect you. He's a bit far today, but it's for you. You need more space so that you won't hurt your arm."

Nancy sat still on the bench, staring blankly at Brandon. Quickly, he picked up the hatchet on the trolley beside his bed and flipped it in the air. When he caught it back and gave her a reassuring smile, Nancy finally decided to lie down. Mika then covered the girl's petite body with a blanket.

Brandon returned the hatchet to the trolley and waved a hand at Mika. As his child walked to his bed, she glanced over his shoulder periodically to make sure that Nancy had fallen asleep. The girl's eyes were still wide open even though Mika had reached Brandon's bed. Poor kid kept casting a vacant glare at the ceiling.

"Nancy will feel less scared if she sleeps here, but I'm afraid that you may hurt her," Mika whispered to Brandon, climbing onto his bed and crawling all the way to his chest. "You aren't all that silent in your sleep."

"I rarely snore."

"Your arm." Mika snickered. "You always hug something above you so tightly in your sleep. You're afraid of being alone?" When Brandon shook his head, she only laughed. "You can never lie to me."

Brandon grinned. _You know me so well._

"But you look a bit sad." Mika's eyelids drooped a bit. She looked at Nancy, who now lay on the bench with her eyes closed. "I know. Mr. Norton told me everything before you came home. Let's just hope for the best."

* * *

Thoughts of William proven guilty and Nancy's future haunted him throughout the night. After that, the poor little girl woke up a few times and wailed, claiming that she had nightmares about being chased by hellhounds. Those gave him a bloodshot eye and a sleepy face.

Luckily, this morning began with good news, which energized him. When Zach removed his bandage, he could see that most of his wounds had healed without any scars. Only a few remained, but they were nothing more than bruises.

When he set off to the lab with Albert, though, he had to look away from Mika and Nancy. Mika waved her hand at him as his van moved away from the parking basement, while Nancy only cried in Mika's embrace. He wished he could stay at home and accompany the little girls, but he had a task to carry out.

After about an hour inside the van, Brandon saw a wide three-story building in the distance. A group of people ran out of the research facility, with some of them heading to their own car and preparing to leave the area.

"Stop here!" he commanded. Albert looked at him funny, but he only pointed at the chaotic situation ahead of them.

A large explosion of glass and rubble came from the side of the building. A silhouette of something as huge as a truck stood there, a pair of gleaming red orbs acting as its headlights.

The dust cleared completely, revealing a giant dog with a dead man between its teeth. Blood stained its black fur and the blades along its back, telling Brandon that it had just cut a swath through the workers within the building. Its claws, broad like the blade of an axe, looked as though they could fell a row of street lights in a single swipe.

After swallowing the corpse, the beast began its hunt for a new prey. Unless Brandon lent a hand, any scientists who couldn't run fast would end up as mincemeat. Or dog food, if the hound didn't care about its inactive digestive tract.

Brandon opened the car door and dashed out. He rushed towards the beast, his hand ready to draw his hatchet. He ran even faster when he saw the dog running after a chubby scientist. Unfortunately, the man in white coat tripped over a slab of concrete and fell. No matter how fast Brandon ran, he would never make it in time.

He stopped in his tracks and whistled at the dog.

The beast pulled away from the scientist and howled. Brandon whistled again, drawing the dog's attention to him. With the hound's eyes fixed at him, he waggled a finger.

The dog roared at the gesture and charged at Brandon with its mouth wide open. Hatchet drawn, he lunged at his incoming foe and dodged its mighty bite with a huge leap.

When Brandon positioned himself to land on the dog's snout, the blades on the beast's back tore themselves free from its flesh and hurtled towards him.

A swing. Another swing. Yet another swing. Crack! The third time he deflected the knife-like projectile, the hatchet's head left its handle. Damn. He could neither harm the beast nor defend himself now.

Two of the blades hit him. One remained embedded in his stomach, while another whizzed past his right arm and left a bleeding gash. To make things worse, the dog opened its mouth wide and jumped at him.

He went straight into the dog's gaping maw. In his mind's eye, Brandon saw Mika's face, distraught at the news that a giant hellhound had devoured him... No! As he slid down the slippery, pulsating red tube, he pulled the blade out of his stomach. Blood gushed forth from his wound like water out of a broken pipe.

It didn't take more than a minute for him to land on a stable ground - the beast's stomach. Severed body parts lay scattered there, still intact due to the lack of gastric juice. The dog itself would naturally die of infection when they decayed, but Brandon couldn't wait that long. Moreover, he knew the owners of these things. He'd make damn sure that the beast paid for its deed later.

He slashed at the wall of flesh again and again, drenching his own clothes with the splashes of blood. As the gash grew larger and deeper, the surroundings shook harder and harder.

When everything shook so hard that Brandon could barely stand, he plunged the blade as deep as he could and slashed down. Then he squeezed his body into the opening, bathing himself in sticky crimson fluid as he forced his way out.

In a matter of seconds, his body smashed into the concrete under the dog's wounded belly. After rolling away from the beast, he rose to his feet and began running into the research facility.

Inside, he found the mutilated corpses of Millennion scientists and Anti-Necrolyze agents along the ruined hallway. Their blood stained the floor and the wall alike. A lone tear trickled down Brandon's only eye, which he quickly brushed away with a finger. The hell beast would regret what it'd done once he found the Bonehacker.

A set of booming footsteps followed him. Brandon kept running, skipping over mangled bodies and fallen doors while looking at the hanging signs.

Something rattled. Then a deafening boom exploded from behind, followed by a massive shadow looming over him. His pursuer now knew to jump, telling him that staying defenseless would put him in a serious trouble. As he ran, he ripped off a large metallic door in his way. It might work as a shield, although it wouldn't last very long.

At long last, the huge sign "Weapon Engineering Area" appeared in his sight. After running past the doors under the signboard, he scanned the office doors for Douglas' name.

Three doors later, he finally found what he wanted. When he stopped to kick the door open, a colossal paw came down upon him. He blocked the blow with the metallic door, and the makeshift shield became a dented piece of metal. With a roar, he pushed the paw back and sent its owner tumbling.

Inside the office, he discarded the scrap metal in his hand and began searching for his new weapon. As he did, he heard the creaking of a door. It came from the bathroom.

Douglas' voice escaped from the small opening, "It's under my desk, Sir! That thing was too heavy to be moved!" He then slammed the door shut.

When Brandon reached the desk, a loud crash resounded across the room. But he paid more attention at his new weapon than his foe. A single bit axe rested before him; big as a grown-up man, a swing of this thing could easily slice a human in two. Having metallic spikes along the butt of its broad blade, this axe could also act like a mace and wreck someone's skull.

Picking it up, he glared at the incoming dog. The monstrosity returned his stare, blood and saliva dripping down its gaping mouth.

He leaped into the air and dodged the beast's big bite. The dog roared and launched its blades, which he smashed in a swing. When the hound opened its mouth wide to devour him again, Brandon jammed his axe into the dog's snout before flipping away from the snapping jaw.

Landing on the back of the hound's neck, he turned and raised his weapon. And he brought it down. Again. Again. And again. The beast collapsed, bleeding out from the gaping wound on its skull.

Brandon jumped off the dog's motionless body. When he landed on the floor, dizziness struck him. As everything around him spun and blurred, he limped towards the bathroom.

Leaning against the wall beside the bathroom entrance, he knocked on the door. Aside from wanting to thank Douglas for the weapon, he also had a few questions to ask.

The door opened slowly, and Douglas peeked through the opening. Suddenly, he flung the door open, stepped out of the bathroom, and looked at Brandon with widened eyes. "Sir! You look so pale!" His gaze traveled down Brandon's body. "Did you happen to get stabbed by something and then pull that thing out?"

Nodding, Brandon answered in a faint voice, "Thank you for the weapon."

"I'll help you." Douglas took a mobile phone out of his coat pocket and dialed a set of numbers. "Just hang in there. I must tell Boss that you need a transfusion."

Brandon nodded again. "Doc, can I ask you something?"

"Yes?"

"Where did this dog come from?"


	8. Descent

Nobody really knew where that dog came from, so Brandon figured he'd check the entire lab - particularly the surveillance room - by himself.

He couldn't start the investigation yet, though. Seeing the wounds on his stomach and right arm, Douglas had asked his colleagues to get him a gurney. It had elicited a morose look from him. Seriously, a wheelchair would suffice. As long as Douglas had bandaged his wounds, he could search the lab as the treatment went on.

At least, Douglas had delighted Brandon a bit by paying attention to his personal hygiene. The doctor had ordered his friends to bring Brandon a clean short-sleeved dress shirt and a pair of pants as he gave the necrolyzer a quick bed bath. With the doctor's help, Brandon had quickly changed his clothes, only to realize that the IV lines connected to his hand prevented him from putting on the shirt.

Thirty minutes passed with him waiting for the bag of blood and the liquid-laden syringe to empty into his body. Once the doctor had removed the transfusion set, Brandon put on his new shirt without buttoning it and hopped off the gurney. After picking up his Bonehacker on the trolley beside his bed, he dashed out of the room.

Guided by the hanging signs, Brandon made his way through the bloody labyrinth. Good thing he had no sense of smell, else the stench of blood would've made him queasy and slowed him down. His hard, rapid footsteps echoed across the corpse-filled maze.

It took about five minutes for him to reach the surveillance room. Standing before the entrance, he pressed an ear against the metallic double door. Chilling air seeped out of the hole between the doors, and it felt...deathly silent.

With a gulp, he bit the handle and pulled the door open. A black cat greeted him, licking its lips as its red eyes gleamed.

"Rowr!"

Another cat sprang out of the dark, its claws ready to shred his face. He quickly cleaved the beast in two.

Crack!

Brandon could swear that standing now drained his left leg more quickly. Looking down, he found the cat swatting his broken artificial leg away. As the feline jumped at the remainder of his prosthesis, he brought his axe down. Blood splattered as the blade cleaved through the cat and smashed into the ceramic tile.

Brandon hopped ahead with one leg, only to fall a few jumps later. A swivel chair lay further in front of him, its huge backrest concealing whoever sat on it. However, it didn't hide the pistol in one of the hands. His eye widened at the sight.

The arm moved the gun towards the owner's head. No matter how fast Brandon crawled, he couldn't reach the chair and stop the hand from pulling the trigger.

Bang!

The arm went limp, leaving the gun to clatter on the floor.

Placing his axe between his teeth, Brandon pushed on. This guy might turn into a necrolyzer soon, although he had no idea how a Millennion man would do such a thing.

The chair spun around, revealing a fully-awake man in black suit. His skin turned green. His swelling muscles ripped through his clothes. Standing up, he roared as his body grew bigger and bigger.

Halting about a meter away from the giant, Brandon swung his axe.

The giant stopped growing in the nick of time and evaded his attack with a leap.

Brandon rolled aside to dodge the incoming feet. His axe ripped through the debris and struck the necrolyzer in the knee. One leg gone, the green-skinned giant howled as he fell down. Brandon crawled ahead and raised his axe.

A fist hammered his head into the ground when his Bonehacker tore into the necrolyzer's skull. Blood spurted out of Brandon's nose, while the giant collapsed with the axe stuck in his head.

Something buzzed in the distance.

As Brandon crept past the green-skinned giant, he found a vibrating mobile phone under the swivel chair. His hand went to grab it, and upon realizing that the vibration came from a phone call, he pushed the "Answer" button.

Nothing came. Brandon let out a "hello" to make the caller talk, but the phone immediately went off. He proceeded to examine the call history and discovered that the same number had called this phone several times before.

He then went to check the message inbox, which contained only three messages, also from the same number.

_"Don't worry. Your family will get the money."_  
_Today, 11:02 AM_

_"Yes, it's your turn now."_  
_Today, 10:57 AM_

_"Brandon is coming to the lab. Tell them to release the dog."_  
_Today, 9:46 AM_

Suddenly, a set of footsteps approached him. He glanced over his shoulder and found Albert and Douglas.

"Never thought that there would be enemies among us. I'll check the security monitor," Douglas said, walking past Brandon. "I should be able to find who created the dog."

"Hmm?" Kneeling beside Brandon, Albert raised an eyebrow. "You found something?"

Brandon nodded as he inspected the outbox. It contained only two messages.

_"Don't forget your promise!"_  
_Today, 10:59 AM_

_"The dog is dead. Want me to keep him busy?"  
Today, 10:54 AM_

Brandon's eye widened at the last line. Rising to his knees, he snapped, "Take me home ASAP!"

"Didn't we come here to-" Brandon shoved the phone to Albert's face. "I don't get it."

"They're trying to distract me so that they can attack the tower!"

Douglas immediately left the desk where multiple monitors rested. Rushing out of the dim chamber, he said, "I'll get you a new prosthetic leg, Sir! Don't worry. I'll send the footage to the higher-ups later."

"Let's bring the phone to the boss as well," Albert suggested.

* * *

It hadn't taken too long to get a new prosthetic leg, fortunately. The lab created and maintained his prostheses after all, while he broke his old prosthesis there.

Throughout the journey home, he only sat still in the van and cast a vacant glare at the Bonehacker on his lap. What if those monsters arrived at the tower before he did?

An image of hellhounds pouncing on the helpless Mika and Nancy flashed in his mind, and he screamed.

He felt a hand on his back. "Calm down, Sir!"

Brandon only panted, his heart pounding as fast as the footsteps of a running hellhound. Beads of sweat dribbled down his face and neck. A dying Nancy horrified him, but not as much as a dying Mika did. He couldn't imagine what would become of him if he lost his child, the girl who had lived with him for a year and taken care of him back when his left arm and right leg had just decayed to nothingness.

"It's okay. Maybe the enemies aren't attacking-" A ringing phone interrupted Albert. "Afternoon, Boss." A pause. "We're coming!"

Brandon looked at Albert, who was returning his phone to his pants pocket while steering the wheel with his other hand. From his widened eyes, Brandon knew what to expect when the driver spoke to him.

"You're right, Sir," Albert began, his eyelids drooping. "They're at the tower now. The good news: the upper floors are still safe. The bad news: the parking basement is under attack."

Tears welling in his eye, Brandon looked ahead. Millennion Tower loomed in the distance, its windows glinting off the sunlight. That skyscraper - his home - would soon become a burial ground for his family...

 _No!_ With the Bonehacker in his arm, he kicked the door down and jumped out of the speeding van. His body landed on the pavement with a thud, creating a shallow crater on the concrete. After springing back to feet, he ran towards the tower and beat the speed of his own van.

A few street lamps later, he finally arrived at the massive stone stairs that led to the lobby of the tower. Two armored trucks blocked the path to the steps; behind the gigantic vehicles, clusters of Millennion guardsmen and Anti-Necrolyze agents stood with their guns ready. As much as Brandon wanted to help them fend off a possible assault, he couldn't bring himself to ignore the basement, especially the children.

Brandon turned right and rushed into the ground level parking lot. After skipping over the wrecked metal beam of the parking gate, he stopped in his tracks with a widened eye. Severed limbs and mutilated corpses of both Millennion men and necrolyzers lay scattered across the area. The wall and the floor looked as though someone had just spilled buckets of red paint on them.

"Go away!" a man shrieked from somewhere nearby. "Leave me alone, you mad dogs! Scram!"

The repeated scream led Brandon to an open space between two cars. A Millennion guardsman lay on the ground, cursing and writhing in pain as three hellhounds feasted on him.

With a swing of his axe, Brandon ripped all the hellhounds in two. The beasts' vile blood rained down on the Millennion guardsman, further staining his clothes red.

"Forget about me, Mr. Brandon," the man murmured, wincing as he clutched his bleeding stomach. "The basement...needs you."

Brandon refused to forget about this, because it made a damn good reason for him to make the enemies pay. Teeth gritted, he turned around and hasted to the basement. As he descended the ramp, an Anti-Necrolyze agent hurtled towards him. Brandon dodged it with a sidestep, and when he glanced over his shoulder, he found the man dead. Blood oozed out of the huge bite mark across his armored torso.

_Not that giant dog again!_

Unfortunately, that monstrosity was truly down there, surrounded by Millennion agents. With its fangs, it tossed an agent into the air before shooting the poor guy down with the spikes launched from its back. It did the same thing on every single agent around it.

Brandon simply dashed past it. With so many humans to "play" with, it wouldn't hinder him from reaching the children. However, his friends' agonized cries seared his heart and spawned tears in his eye. _I'll remember this!_

His trailer lay many feet away from him, its doors gone. Dozen of guardsmen lay on the floor beside it, bleeding out from their heads and nostrils. Brandon ran even faster at the sight, roaring and cutting a swath through a clutter of hellhounds and necrolyzed cats. Foul red liquid sprayed everywhere.

A hand emerged from the shower of gore and seized the bandage around Brandon's stomach. The fabric came off with a sickening rip, exposing a gaping laceration. Gritting his teeth, he beheaded the owner of the hand - a necrolyzer - and continued his stride.

His trailer now loomed just five cars away from him. His ears registered a loud howl and a set of booming footsteps from behind, but he kept running. That dog wouldn't-

A blow to the back sent him face-first to the concrete and knocked his Bonehacker away from his hand. As he pushed himself back up, another strike landed and a force kept him pinned to the ground. Glancing over his shoulder, he found the giant dog crushing him under its massive paw. Its claws dug deep into his flesh, shredding his sinew whenever he moved.

He reached out for his axe, only to have his forearm trampled. A shocked scream escaped from his mouth as the blow demolished the bones within and the floor beneath.

Looking ahead, he saw a bulky gray-haired man hoist Nancy's unconscious - or perhaps lifeless - body out of the trailer. Fresh blood dripped down the knuckles of his other hand. An animalistic snarl escaped through Brandon's gritted teeth, and he dragged himself forward. Sticky sensation overwhelmed his body as blood spurted out of the three gashes on his back.

When he managed to break free, though, a paw landed on his back and pinned him to the ground again. As he dragged his body ahead, the dog's giant claws carved a new set of gashes on his back; the more he moved, the larger the wounds grew.

"Let her go!" a girl's furious scream exploded from inside the trailer.

Shocked, Brandon stopped in his tracks. _Mika!_

The gray-haired man turned. With a big pair of scissors in her hands, Mika jumped at the necrolyzer.

"Laughable." The necrolyzer delivered a solid punch to Mika's head. The girl fell to the ground, unconscious with fresh blood soaking her silver hair red.

Brandon gaped at the sight, his eye widening. _Mika..._ For a moment, Mika's "you're like the daddy I've never had" replayed in his head. Then the images of his child's smiles flashed across his eye before crumbling to pieces. He only saw a dying Mika now.

With a bestial roar and a burning eye, he tore himself free from the dog's grip. He charged at the fleeing necrolyzer headfirst, his body covered in blood and his fangs sparkling under the basement's lights. The undead dived out of harm's way, and Brandon ended up with a mouthful of concrete.

Spitting out whatever he'd caught in his mouth, he whirled and ran after the necrolyzer. Although the overgrown man had leapt onto the dog's spiny back and turned to leave the basement, Brandon pressed on. Intense rage empowered his legs; now strong as jet thrusters, they launched him into the air and towards his fleeing prey.

As he dived in to sink his teeth into the necrolyzer's skull, a fist struck him in the face. Blood rushed out of his nostrils and mouth as his body smashed through a stone pillar. When he regained his composure on the cratered ground, he could no longer see the necrolyzer and the dog.

Mika was hurt, Nancy was gone, and he hadn't done anything to make the assailants pay.

Brandon let out a shrill howl and forced himself back to feet. As he climbed up the ramp, though, he suddenly couldn't lift his prosthetic leg. Looking down, he found two Millennion guardsmen wrapping their arms around his prosthesis.

"Don't," the man spoke. "You mustn't leave Miss Mika alone. At least, please wait until the ambulance comes."

 _Mika..._ Tears flowed out of his eye and soothed the burning sensation around it. He nodded, and the men released his artificial limb. Together with them, he walked towards his trailer.

The unconscious Mika lay on the ground next to the trailer, her body covered up to the neck by a black suit. Millennion agents surrounded her, with one of them sitting beside her to press a clean piece of cloth against her bleeding head.

When he approached the crowd, the standing guards moved aside. He knelt beside her, bringing his head closer to her ear. "Mika... You must live." He then raised his head and cast a blank stare at the ceiling. Crying silently, he remembered what turned Mika from an ordinary girl into his irreplaceable treasure.

Wouldn't you hate the man who killed your parents? Brandon thought everybody would. The same thing definitely applied to a man who protected said murderer from execution.

The question was, what if said protector was someone close to you?

Betrayal... It hurt someone for a lifetime. Nobody liked being betrayed; even if they could forgive you for your heinous deed, they'd never trust you like they used to.

Even if you betrayed them because you felt pity for your best friend...

Mika was once a victim of betrayal, and the culprit was nobody but Brandon himself. That time, he'd thought that the girl would make his life a living hell; it was very easy for her to do so because he'd just lost an arm and a leg and she had full support from Millennion. However, much to Brandon's surprise, she'd never hated him for what he'd done.

"You're my family, Brandon," she once told him as she wiped the tears from his eye, "and I'll always love you."

More fluid escaped from Brandon's eye as those words replayed in his mind. He looked around, only to feel more pain in his chest at the sight of the guardsmen. Back then, whenever he roamed the parking basement by himself, they'd make fun of him or even throw rocks and buckets of water at him. He couldn't fight back because just a slight mistake would earn him a painful lecture from Biscoe or Norton, who wouldn't have forgiven him if Mika hadn't existed.

People hated him because, again, nobody liked being betrayed. The murderer of Mika's parents happened to be a wanted man in Millennion.

However, Mika would always yell at these guardsmen whenever she saw them pick on Brandon. Sometimes, though, she didn't need to see their acts of bullying with her eyes. If Brandon ever showed a sign of heartbreak after wandering around the basement, she'd rush out of the trailer and start a squabble.

The guardsmen did become kinder later on, but Brandon believed Mika played a major role in the change.

"Mr. Brandon, Mr. Biscoe wants to speak to you."

That voice snapped him out of his reverie. Suddenly, he felt a warm piece of metal - likely a phone - pressed against his right ear.

"Brandon?"

"Yes?"

"The enemies are retreating, so I've called Dr. Zach to treat your wounds."

Who would take care of Mika then? Frowning, he told Biscoe, "No. Mika needs me."

"My personal bodyguards will do that."

"They can't look after her better than I do."

"Brandon, listen to my orders, and I'll reward you with more information about the case. The footage from the lab and the hospital gave us many clues. The phone Albert brought us also helped a lot."

It was a great offer, but after glancing at Mika's unconscious form once again, he murmured, "Forget about it."


	9. The Investigation Continues

"You can't be serious!" Biscoe shouted at the phone.

"Mika needs me!" Brandon argued back. "Can't you understand?"

Before Biscoe could reply, Norton reached out his hand to the mob boss. "Let me talk to this bullhead."

Biscoe tried hard not to wince at Norton's face; the second-in-command usually smirked when he had a nefarious idea in his head. However, Biscoe thought he'd better leave this to his right-hand man.

After taking the phone, Norton began, "Really? You don't want to make those bastards pay?" A pause. "Well, if I were the enemy, I'd laugh so hard at you. I just need to hurt your loved ones to bring you down. How easy." A roar exploded in the phone, at which Norton smiled. "You're angry? Good."

Another roar came from the phone.

"Norton, stop provoking him!" Biscoe's hand came to snatch the phone, but Norton swatted it away. Biscoe made another attempt, which only led to Norton standing up and running to the corner of the room. The mob boss ran after him, but stopped in his tracks once he learned what Norton was trying to do.

"Think of me as the enemy, Brandon. What will you do? Will you unleash your wrath and stop me from committing more crimes? Or will you insist on taking care of Mika and let me do whatever I want?" Norton snickered. "You pick."

Brandon screamed into the phone again.

"Speak clearly!" Norton barked. "Kill the enemies or watch them do something worse!"

"I'll kill them all!"

"That's the spirit! Now, listen up, boy. Dr. Zach is coming to patch you up. As you receive the treatment, Biscoe and I will tell you the information we've gathered. After everything is done, you're free to unleash hell on your enemies. Sound good to you?"

Brandon replied with a roar.

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Norton turned around and handed Biscoe the phone. "Done."

When Biscoe held the phone beside his ear, he only heard Brandon's quiet sobs. Norton's idea didn't seem to work, but Biscoe figured he'd better wait. "Let me talk to the guards." Once the guard greeted him in the phone, the mob boss said, "Help Brandon walk to the trailer."

"Yes, Boss."

Biscoe suddenly thought of something. "One more thing. I doubt Brandon will take it lightly when the ambulance comes to fetch Mika." Biscoe grimaced at the thought of activating the metal shackles of Brandon's bed; it felt like turning the necrolyzer into nothing but a guinea pig for a mad scientist. However, the mob boss feared that Brandon would end up jumping into the ambulance. "Once inside, take off his prosthetic leg and activate the bed restraint. Those will hold him long enough."

"All right, Boss."

"Thank you." Biscoe ended the call and returned the phone to his pants pocket. Then he looked at Norton with a gloomy face. "Honestly, I didn't like how you made Brandon listen to us."

"I just did what I had to do." With a wicked smile, Norton walked towards his swivel chair by the huge mahogany desk and sat down. "Brandon needs to be very angry to be able to deal with this."

Biscoe also returned to his seat, which lay just beside Norton's. "I don't think so."

"You never learn." Norton shrugged, his smile fading. "Brandon's kind heart is an obstacle. He won't be able to beat some information out of Dr. William if we don't get rid of that."

Biscoe growled, "It's not necessary to use violence on the doctor. I believe sending a few agents to search his house is enough."

"No. We also need to speak to him." Norton crossed his arms over his chest. "Let me tell you something, Biscoe. Yesterday, I told Dr. William that I'd call him to come over once we were done with the footage. But he'd always rejected my call."

"Doesn't mean that he's afraid of coming over. Maybe..." Biscoe took a deep breath. "Maybe the enemies have captured him. Or worse."

"I'm not done with my story yet. I wasn't so stupid to use only my number to call him," Norton added. "When I used a new number, the doctor picked up the phone. But once I spoke, he ended the call. People are afraid when they make a mistake."

Biscoe only looked down. A guilty William didn't hurt him as much as the obligation to infuriate Brandon. As time went on, the scientists would eventually gain enough knowledge and experience to replace that doctor. Meanwhile, Biscoe had yet to find a mild-mannered necrolyzer like Brandon. _Not to mention that I still feel horrible for nearly causing more amputation on the stump of his leg..._

"Moreover, Dr. William is our main suspect. The footage from the post-operative ICU shows that he often talks to the nurses there. He also had a record of working on that hospital for three years before joining us." Norton picked up the briefcase beside his chair and placed it on the desk. "He must be the man behind Dr. Bernard's necrolyzation."

Biscoe raised an eyebrow. "How is that related to the murder of his family? Dr. William is so distraught at the deaths. I don't think Dr. Bernard would kill his own family either." He paused. "What do you think about Dr. Zach and Dr. Douglas? They also visited Dr. Bernard."

"Hmm..." Norton rubbed his broad chin with a finger. "They're never seen talking to the nurses in the footage, but they know when Brandon would come to the lab. I think it's a good idea to talk to them."

Suddenly, Biscoe's phone rang and vibrated in his pants pocket. Taking it out, he learned that the call came from Zach. "Afternoon, Doc."

"Boss, I've just injected a vial of sedative into Brandon."

"What's happening down there?"

"When I arrived at the parking basement, I saw that Brandon was crying and trying to get into an ambulance. I heard that he was trying to follow Miss Mika. Luckily, his arm was broken, so the guardsmen easily held him back for me to sedate him."

"How is he now?"

"He's sleeping."

Before Biscoe could say something, Norton nudged him in the shoulder. "Ask him about Dr. Bernard."

With a nod, Biscoe continued, "Doc, can we talk? It's about Dr. Bernard's necrolyzation. You visited him at the ICU last time, so I thought you know something."

"Allow me to treat Brandon's wounds first. I'll call you when I'm done."

"Fine. See you later then." Biscoe hung up the phone.

"What did he say?" Norton asked, taking a laptop out of the briefcase.

"He'll talk after he's done treating Brandon's wounds." Biscoe searched his contact list in the phone for Douglas' name. "I'd better call Dr. Douglas first." Once he found the name, he tapped the "call" button. "Good afternoon, Doc."

"Boss?"

"I have something to ask you. You visited Dr. Bernard at the ICU last time, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"Someone necrolyzed Dr. Bernard. He's now a green-skinned giant."

"What the hell!"

From Douglas' shocked voice, Biscoe remembered something. Neither he nor Norton had told many Millennion people about Bernard's necrolyzation; so far, only Brandon, Mika, and William knew about this. Why didn't Zach feel bothered at the news?

"Uh, I'm sorry, Boss." Douglas broke the momentary silence. "Green-skinned giant... It means he got the serum from the hospital. Maybe you can talk to the nurses there. Ask them if they've ever received a vial of green liquid from anybody."

"My men asked them when they went to the hospital for the footage, but they refused to speak about it. Likely because it's something embarrassing to the hospital."

"Otherwise, ask William."

Biscoe sighed. "We haven't been able to contact him recently."

"What about Zach? He visits the neonatal ICU everyday. It's close to the post-operative ICU, so he might know something."

"Neonatal ICU?" Biscoe raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"He never told you about his premature son?"

"No."

"Didn't you go to his wife's funeral two weeks ago, Boss?"

"No." Biscoe saw no reason to spend his time for an insignificant member of Millennion like Zach.

"His wife died of seizures. Luckily, the doctors managed to save her baby before he died along with his mother. I think the situation is related to Zach being...emotionless. If you pay attention at his behavior, you'll notice that he's always stone-faced and his voice is monotone."

"All I know about Dr. Zach is that he always has a negative outlook on life." A pause. "Anything else, Doc?"

"That's all I know," Douglas replied. "By the way, Boss, have you checked the footage I sent?"

"Yes, but it isn't that helpful. Many things are missing in there." A pause. "However, this also means that the culprit is inside the organization. Nobody out there can convince a handful of people in the lab to work for them, such as tampering with the CCTV footage."

"What about the phone?"

"Not too helpful. The call history only contains the most recent calls from an inactive number. Meanwhile, the message box contains only about releasing the dog in the lab and the culprit's deal with this surveillance room staff. The sender used the same inactive number as well."

"I see."

Biscoe smiled. "Well, thank you for your time." Then he ended the call.

"It seems like Dr. Douglas didn't help much," Norton spoke from beside Biscoe.

"He only told me to ask Dr. Zach." Biscoe pulled the desk drawer open and took a logbook out of it. "Guess I'll have to wait."

Five minutes later, as Biscoe scribbled in the book, his phone rang. The call came from Oswald, the leader of the squad he sent to investigate William's house. "Good afternoon."

"Boss, we couldn't find any suspicious items in the house. Dr. William wasn't even there."

 _People are afraid when they make a mistake._ William knew something, but how to make him talk? Brandon was the ace when it came to intimidating someone, but would he have the heart to torture William, his caretaker? A furious Brandon would thrash William for information without a doubt, but according to Mika, Brandon usually lashed out on people once grief overfilled the bottle in his mind.

"Boss?"

The agent's voice jarred Biscoe back to reality, but the mob boss managed to remain calm. "Search the town for him. Once you've located him, tell me."

An hour later, when Biscoe's phone rang again, he thought Zach had finished treating Brandon's wounds. But he was wrong; the call came from Harris, the man he'd sent to accompany Mika. The agent told him that Mika had regained consciousness. Moreover, her head CT scan showed a very small mass of accumulated blood in her brain, which the neurosurgeon could easily evacuate. She should be able to leave the hospital in a few weeks.

About thirty minutes after that call, Zach finally called Biscoe. Much to his surprise, the doctor asked him to come to the trailer. Biscoe thought Zach knew a lot about this.

As Biscoe stepped into the trailer, he found Zach sitting on the bench where Mika usually slept on. Further beside the bench, Brandon's slumbering form remained still on a huge bed. Multiple leather straps kept the necrolyzer's body in its place.

Biscoe let out a sigh of relief; Brandon looked less like a test subject this way. Maybe the attack earlier damaged the bed's metallic shackles, which would bind Brandon's neck and limbs when activated.

Biscoe approached Zach, who was reading the small notebook in his hands. "Doc, we need to talk."

Zach shifted his gaze to Biscoe. "Sure. Take a seat." Since Biscoe had learned about Zach's condition, he now noticed the doctor's peculiarity. Unlike most Millennion people, Zach didn't even smile at the sight of the mob boss. The doctor also sounded...a bit robotic.

Biscoe didn't come here to discuss Zach's quirks, though. Sitting down beside the stone-faced doctor, he began, "Tell me what you know about Dr. Bernard's necrolyzation."

"One of the nurses in the post-operative ICU was fired after Bernard's death. His name is Joseph Wells."

"Fired? Because of what?"

"Pouring some green liquid into Bernard's food. Heard that from the nurses at the neonatal ICU."

Biscoe pulled away, his eyes widening in shock. "It's a wonder how they're willing to tell you a lot. Thought nobody would ever talk about it to anybody outside the hospital."

"I used to work there before joining Millennion. That's all." Zach paused. "Try asking Joseph for more information. Also, I heard that Dr. William was the culprit."

Biscoe's eyes widened. William? Then he frowned. Although the doctor was one of the most important people in the organization, rules were rules. Breaking them meant punishment, which ranged from reduced wage to execution.

"Thank you for the information, Doc." Biscoe smiled at the doctor, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket. "I'll be waiting here. I need to talk to Brandon." When he found Norton's name in the contact list, he tapped the "send a message" option and typed, _"A nurse named Joseph Wells was fired after Dr. Bernard's death. Have some men find information about his address and interrogate him."_

"Also, I have something important to tell you," Zach said. "It's about Brandon."

Biscoe quirked an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"Mr. Norton provoked him earlier, didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Tell him that if he values his life, stop angering Brandon." Zach flipped the pages of the notebook as he returned his focus to it. Then he handed it to Biscoe. "Read this. It's written by my senior and Brandon's creator, Dr. Tokioka."

Biscoe gasped at the handwriting before shoving the book back to Zach. "I can't read these _worms_."

"I'll read it for you then." Zach looked at the black blades of grass in the book. "'There is a reason why we prefer implanting commands into a necrolyzer's head with the brain reprogramming device. Sentient necrolyzers are very aggressive, especially when provoked. Even in normal state, they are capable of tearing their creators to shreds.'"

 _Brain reprogramming device..._ Biscoe brushed his bushy mustache with a finger while returning his phone to his pants pocket. _Our enemies are smart and secretive... I need to ask Dr. Douglas about this later. Maybe the enemies have stolen that thing from the lab.  
_

"You understand?" Zach suddenly spoke from beside Biscoe, snapping him out of his reverie.

"Hmm..." Biscoe looked at Brandon, who was still sleeping. "But Brandon isn't really that savage."

"The next page explains why," Zach turned the page. "'Brandon Heat, aka Beyond the Grave, proves that the blank slate theory is true. Sentient necrolyzers are like blank slates. The environment, especially the people around them, play a role in their personality. Treat them with love and respect, and they'll learn to appreciate every living thing around them. Treat them like they're real monsters, and they'll really be monsters. However, it also depends on the people they used to be. It only takes a few minutes to teach a criminal to steal something, while it may take up to days to teach a gentleman to do that.'"

"Ah, I get it." Biscoe smiled. "It's Miss Mika's kindness that makes him a good-natured necrolyzer."

"And it ends up turning him into a big softie." Zach closed the note and put it on his lap. "He was colder in this journal."

"Well, I don't mind." Biscoe stood up and walked towards the swivel chair by the computer desk of the trailer. As he dragged it towards Brandon's bed, he said, "I like him better as a big softie. I bet Miss Mika prefers him to be like that, too."

"But Mr. Norton seems to have a problem with that."

Sitting down beside the bed, Biscoe shot a glance at the blank-faced doctor. "My stupid second-in-command prefers him as a mindless killing machine." He shifted his gaze to the sleeping Brandon and stroked his face. "Don't worry, boy. I'm here. I won't let Norton pester you again." _Because nobody wants to lose you.  
_

Fifteen minutes passed with him sitting still beside Brandon, wondering what he could do to console the necrolyzer. The good news about Mika's condition would do, but wasn't there anything else that could delight him?

Sometimes, Biscoe couldn't help but feel jealous of Mika's ability to make Brandon smile and laugh so easily.

Suddenly, Brandon's fingers twitched.

"You're waking up?" Biscoe asked.

A howl akin to that released by a mad hellhound echoed across the trailer. Eye still closed, Brandon thrashed and continued roaring.

"Brandon, calm down!" the worried Biscoe shouted.

The restless limbs ripped through the straps, and a hand slammed onto Biscoe's face. The resulted bruise throbbed and stung the mob boss.

 _Don't lose your cool._ Biscoe closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he retreated from the agitated necrolyzer. _Necrolyzers are kind because people are kind to them._ He opened his eyes and smiled. "Brandon, I have good news about Miss Mika."

"She's dead! Those bastards! I'll kill them all!"

"Are you having a nightmare?" Biscoe moved closer to Brandon and stopped at where the necrolyzer's arm couldn't reach. He then placed a hand on the necrolyzer's forehead. "Come on. Wake up."

Brandon stopped thrashing, and his eye snapped open. Beads of sweat trickled down his face as he sat up and panted.

"It's just a nightmare. Miss Mika is doing well. She has regained her consciousness, and her injury isn't too bad. She needs to stay in the hospital for a few weeks, though, because she may be undergoing a surgery soon."

Brandon remained silent for a few seconds before letting a sigh of relief.

"I'll keep you updated about her, so just focus on this case."

The necrolyzer nodded. Biscoe noticed a tinge of sadness in his eye, though. Much like he really wanted to see Mika now.

"You're free to stay with her once this case is resolved, so take care of it quickly, yes?"

Brandon nodded again; this time, he smiled a bit.

"I'll tell you something. Right now, our main suspect is Dr. William. Why? The footage from the ICU shows that he often talks to the nurses, while the nurses are in charge of feeding Dr. Bernard."

"Moreover," Zach suddenly added from the bench, still looking as emotionless as ever, "one of the ICU nurses was fired after Bernard's death. Said nurse poured some green liquid into Bernard's food. Also, people there told me that-"

"Said green liquid came from Dr. William," a familiar voice of a man came from the entrance of the trailer. "Joseph has been missing since he lost his job, but it's not like we can't ask his neighbors. They said he was visited by Dr. William a few days before he was fired."

"Norton!" Biscoe stood up, glaring at his second-in-command. "Don't you dare provoke Brandon!"

"Yes, it's a bad idea to anger a necrolyzer," Zach added. "You won't know what an angry necrolyzer might do. Also, Brandon's wounds aren't severe enough to hold him back right now."

Norton grinned, walking towards Brandon's bed. "I'm willing to take the risk."


	10. By Anger Be Driven

Brandon sat still, his face contorting in fear. He had to interrogate William? If the doctor refused to speak up, Brandon doubted he could beat the answer out of him. Moreover, if the doctor was truly guilty, Brandon couldn't really bring himself to execute him. But if he didn't do it, those monsters would keep haunting Mika and Millennion.

Then he remembered when William taught him how to walk with a prosthetic leg. His smile... His patience... His encouraging words... Sometimes, William felt like his big brother.

Perhaps another organization or a traitor within Millennion forced him to commit crimes.

No. He had to get rid of his kind heart now; otherwise, Mika would suffer more or even die. Looking ahead, he gave Norton a "just get past the boss and come here already" glare.

"Do not provoke Brandon," Biscoe insisted, staring at Norton. "It won't do us any good."

Brandon wished Biscoe hadn't been Millennion's boss. His knuckles really wanted to strike the old man in the gut now.

"Wrong. Only an enraged Brandon can do the job this time." Norton walked towards the mob boss and Brandon's bed. "Step aside, Biscoe!"

"You have no right to command me!" Biscoe snapped. "I am the boss! Now, get out before I have to punish you for disobeying your boss!"

The last line stopped Norton in his tracks and made Brandon growl in exasperation. Damn. Norton might hate Biscoe's order, but he would never go against them. It was mostly a matter of respect.

"Fine." Norton turned around. Before leaving the trailer, he glanced over his shoulder. "Don't blame me if things go wrong."

Brandon scowled at this.

From the bench further beside Brandon's bed, Zach added, "Things will go wrong if you anger Brandon. Angry necrolyzers are more dangerous than you can imagine."

"I bet he isn't listening." Biscoe sighed. When he turned to Brandon, he quirked an eyebrow. "Huh? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Brandon replied with nothing but an angry glare.

Biscoe only smiled. "I believe you can do it without Norton's provocation. Come on, think about it. Dr. William may be your friend, but he has the heart to injure your precious child. Why can't you have the heart to give him what he deserves?"

Brandon only lowered his head, his eyelid drooping. "Revenge against your friend is easier said than done," he muttered. "I'll end up letting Dr. William go."

"Even if that'll lead to Miss Mika's death?"

Brandon's eye widened at the question. With a roar, he looked up and slapped Biscoe. His broken forearm saved the mob boss from losing a tooth, though.

Then he jerked away and gulped.

"Told you," Zach commented from the bench. "Don't provoke him."

Grasping his swollen face, Biscoe only said, "I didn't mean to." Eyes full of concern instead of anger, he looked at Brandon. "I know it's hard for you, but I'm sure that you'll change your mind." He turned around. "Well, I'm leaving. See you later."

Once Biscoe had left the trailer, Brandon sighed. He knew that he couldn't simply let William slip away, but... Right now, even imagining a crying William with a bloody nose already seared his heart.

 _I can't do it!_ He placed a palm on his face. His eye glistened with tears as the image of William changing his bandage flashed in his mind. _He used to take care of me!_

"Brandon," Zach called, jarring him out of his daydream, "rest up before Boss sends you to interrogate William. Your wounds will heal faster that way."

With a slight nod, Brandon lay back down and closed his eye.

* * *

_One had to be in a gang to have a better chance of surviving in the streets. The seventeen-year-old Brandon was one of those people, although he never really liked what his friends did to keep the gang alive. Harry dated women and slept with them for money, while Kenny and Nathan earned a living by robbing some helpless civilians.  
_

_Luckily for Brandon, he still had the chance to earn money in a more peaceful and honest way. The alleys of West District often contained treasures; at times, he could even find watches and rings in the trash cans. He only had to bear with the odor of rotten food.  
_

_Tonight, equipped with rubber gloves, he visited the alleys again. Rats and cockroaches scurried as he approached one of the trash cans. After removing the lid, he inserted his hands into the heap of rubbish and began rummaging it._

_Tap, tap, tap...  
_

_Brandon's hands retreated at the noise as his eyes scanned the surroundings. A gray-haired man stood by a public phone in the distance. Maybe that guy paid no attention to the alley due to the phone call, but Brandon's gut told him to examine this man properly. A thin thread of smoke rose into the air above his head, giving out the stench of tobacco. Creeping closer to the man, Brandon heard him introduce himself as "Rafael Jones."_

_Brandon's eyes widened at this. Just hearing the name reminded him of everything: the steel beam that crushed the baby inside his mother's belly, his father's severed head, the gunshot that silenced his mother forever... Brandon's skin burned, recalling the feel of the rough street as Rafael's goon dragged him along eleven years ago.  
_

_Eyebrows furrowing and teeth clenched, Brandon took off his belt and tiptoed towards Rafael. Age didn't matter; this bastard had to pay dearly for everything he'd done! Yes, keep talking on the phone! Be an unsuspecting deer in the eyes of a lion!  
_

_With a leap, Brandon slipped the belt around Rafael's neck. His prey dropped the phone in shock. "Wha-"  
_

_Brandon tightened the belt and reduced the speech into gargles. It didn't take long until the noise subsided and Rafael's body went limp.  
_

* * *

Brandon opened his eye, sighing as he gave the ceiling a vacant stare. William was no Rafael; hurting Mika wasn't as terrible as what Rafael had done. Moreover, William was his friend.

 _I'm too weak._ Brandon looked down. _I can never do the right thing unless I blind myself with rage._

"Go back to sleep," Zach spoke from the bench. His voice sounded monotone, but Brandon somehow felt that the doctor was giving him a command.

He shook his head. How could he ever sleep with troubling thoughts in his mind?

"Your wounds won't heal that fast then."

"Shut up."

"I can't let that happen anyway. Boss needs you in a few hours."

Footsteps echoed. Then metal scraped against metal. When Brandon looked up, his eye widened at what Zach wanted to do. The doctor took a drug-laden syringe out of an open drawer. Brandon couldn't read the label on the object, but he had a hunch that it contained sedative.

Approaching his bed, Zach said, "If you still refuse to sleep, I'll have to inject this into you."

A snarl escaped through Brandon's gritted teeth.

"I'll count until three." The doctor stopped before Brandon. "One."

Brandon let out another growl, which barely scared Zach. Well, he could easily fend Zach off in a physical combat, but he could no longer defend himself once the doctor called the guards. He couldn't possibly escape either; with a broken arm, he doubted he could put on his prosthetic leg before the guardsmen came.

Then in his mind's eye, he saw Mika standing between him and Zach. _"Get out!"_ he heard her yell.

Now that he thought about it, he figured he'd better deal with William and resolve this case. Closing his eye, he lay back down.

* * *

Hours passed with a dreamless sleep, which refreshed his body and mind. As he sat up and opened his eye, he heard two distinct voices. He knew who owned them without having to find the talking people, though; the rougher one belonged to Biscoe, while the lighter one belonged to Zach.

When he looked at the bench, he spotted Biscoe and Zach.

"You're already up?" Biscoe smiled. "Excellent."

Zach stood up and walked towards Brandon's bed, his face an impassive mask. After picking up a pair of rubber gloves from the trolley beside the bed and putting them on, the doctor began removing the bandage around Brandon's torso. Like usual, although fast and skilled, Zach lacked Mika's gentleness.

When the fabric came off, Brandon could see that the laceration on his stomach had disappeared without a scar.

"Your back is healing up pretty nicely as well," Zach said from behind Brandon before heading back to the trolley. Preparing the cast cutter, he added, "I bet your arm is fine now."

Brandon nodded with a broad smile.

"Brandon," Biscoe suddenly called from the bench, drawing the necrolyzer's attention, "the scouts haven't located Dr. William. However, you'd better check West District. They saw a giant crow flying around that place earlier."

Brandon nodded again.

"I'm counting on you." Biscoe stood up. As he walked past Brandon's bed to pick up the necrolyzer's prosthesis, his phone rang. He picked it up. "Good evening."

Although Brandon couldn't comprehend whatever came from the phone and Biscoe remained calm, the necrolyzer's heart thumped hard and fast. _Mika is in danger_ , he thought, trying not to shudder at the bad feeling.

"All right. I'll tell him. Thank you for the information." Biscoe hung up the phone and returned it to his pants pocket. After picking up the prosthetic leg, he told Brandon, "I have bad news. My scouts spotted a suspicious car heading to the hospital."

 _I knew it._ Brandon returned his gaze to the fiberglass cast around his forearm. Zach was still cutting the cast, which made Brandon grit his teeth and growl in annoyance. _Can't you be faster, Doc?_

* * *

Brandon could finally set off around twenty minutes later. With his coat on and prosthetic leg attached, he sat still beside Albert. The lack of cars in the road calmed him down, but most of the time, the thoughts of necrolyzed beasts pouncing on the injured Mika bothered him. By gripping the Bonehacker's handle tight, though, he managed to prevent himself from roaring.

"Honestly, I can't really believe that a nice guy like Dr. William has the heart to do this," Albert said, steering the wheel. "I bet he's threatened by somebody else. He doesn't have a reason to kill his family and attack Millennion."

"I'll make him speak after this!" Brandon snapped.

Albert chuckled. "Heh, you can finally be rough to your friend."

Brandon nodded.

It took fifteen minutes for the van to arrive at the hospital. As it entered the parking lot, though, Brandon saw nothing wrong. People left the building calmly, talking as they walked towards their cars.

"Was it just a joke?" Albert asked, parking the van at a nearby space. "Better call Boss first."

Then Brandon thought of something. What kind of necrolyzers had his enemy sent? Overgrown gray-haired men could easily blend themselves into the environment of a hospital unless they showed their jagged teeth by accident. Necrolyzers right after a therapy discharged pungent odor akin to disinfectant, and a few days later, they'd smell like humans with gangrenous body parts.

Eye widening, Brandon picked up the Bonehacker and opened the door. He jumped out of the car and rushed to the building, paying attention to the signs in his path. He then realized that he'd forgotten to ask Biscoe about Mika's current location... Never mind. He could feel that his child was still at the emergency department.

"Stop!" somebody shouted from behind him. "Weapons aren't allowed here!"

Ignoring their calls, Brandon pressed on. It didn't take more than a minute for him to find the building with a huge "Emergency Department" on the wall beside the sliding doors. His arrival scared people off, though.

Two security guards had the guts to stand against him. "Put away that axe!" they demanded, blocking his path.

Brandon jumped over them and landed inside the emergency department, drawing everyone's attention. Screaming, everybody poured out of the building. Amid the fleeing crowd, though, a gigantic gray-haired man in a black suit ran deeper into the building.

Eye fixated at his _prey_ , Brandon squeezed through the crowd and followed him to a narrow hallway. Their rapid, yet heavy footsteps echoed across the desolated area. When they reached a T-junction, Brandon heard the whirring of six wheels and several light footsteps.

A gurney and an oxygen tank, pushed by two nurses and Harris, emerged from the junction. An unconscious Mika lay still on the bed, breathing with the aid of a mask. A large crimson tube connected her bandaged head to a bottle of blood.

The nurses fled upon the encounter. Harris charged at the necrolyzer, only to earn a fist to the gut and fall. Path cleared, the undead reached out his hand and seized Mika by her neck.

Brandon's eye flared at this. With a savage howl, he swung his axe and sent the necrolyzer's head slamming to the floor beside the gurney. Letting out another roar, Brandon cleaved the undead's body in two and painted the hallway red.

Staring at the mangled corpse, Brandon breathed heavily and noisily. _Enough is enough, W_ _illiam!  
_

He left without saying goodbye to Mika.

* * *

Once his van arrived at West District, Brandon opened the door and hopped out of the moving vehicle. Not knowing where to start the search, he walked along the pavement with his ears and eye alert. The luminescence from the moonlight and the street lamps guided him.

He failed to find anything suspicious after a few minutes of searching.

Then he remembered about the giant crow Biscoe mentioned. Brandon glanced up, but he still couldn't find anything. Shaking his head, he resumed investigating the street.

A few meters later, he spotted a massive shadow of a bird crossing the road. When he looked up, the scamper of many feet from the nearby alley distracted him.

Brandon went to check the alley. The noise came from William and the two overgrown gray-haired men behind him.

Whatever business those necrolyzers had with the doctor, Brandon figured he'd better get rid of them first. Leaping over William, he kicked a necrolyzer in the face while beheading another with a swing of his axe. Upon landing on the ground, he crushed the head of the undead he'd just booted under his sound foot.

When he turned around, he found out that William hadn't bothered stopping to greet him.

Running after William, Brandon raised his axe. Humans could never beat a necrolyzer in a chase; aside from having weaker leg muscles, they ran out of stamina very quickly. They also wouldn't get up so fast if they ever took a blow to the back.

Brandon jumped and slashed down. Screaming in pain, William collapsed with blood gushing out of the laceration on his back. To make sure that the doctor wouldn't escape, Brandon landed a foot on the bleeding wound.

"Let me go!" William cried out, looking at Brandon with teary eyes. "I never intended to attack Millennion!"

"Then you wouldn't have a reason to run from me!" Brandon yelled back, giving the wound another stomp and forcing an agonized cry out of the doctor's mouth. "Tell me everything!"

William refused to speak, but after another stomp, he finally said, "O-okay. I did necrolyze Bernard, but I have no idea why he'd attack me and Millennion."

 _This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't necrolyzed him._ "Why did you necrolyze your own brother? You know necrolyzers can never live a good life like humans do, don't you?"

William lowered his head. "Some things are easier said than done." He sobbed. "When I saw Bernard dying in the ICU, I just couldn't help it! I asked the nurse there to-"

_Squawk!_

Brandon looked up, only for a muscular arm to wrap around his neck and pull him back. As the Bonehacker slipped out of his hand, his mind couldn't help but commend his foes for executing such a brilliant move.

Worse yet, he spotted two necrolyzers rushing towards the commotion. He snarled at this; these undead people would die before they lay a finger on William.

Brandon elbowed the undead behind him in the gut. With the grip loosened, he picked up the Bonehacker and sprang at the incoming necrolyzers. A few swings of his axe splattered blood and guts across the alley.

Turning around, he saw the remaining necrolyzer scoot away with an unconscious William. Brandon's eye widened. Then his forehead furrowed. _You aren't getting away with this!_

An unseen force struck him in the back and sent him face-first to the ground. Grunting, he got up and turned around, only to find nothing. His eyebrow quirked.

Another force rammed him in the abdomen and knocked him back down. At the same time, he felt like having a knife stuck in his stomach. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a giant crow pulling away with a bloodstained beak.

Brandon's Bonehacker ripped through the air and smashed into the nearby wall. No blood. Goddammit, where had that crow gone? Pulling himself back up, he prepared himself for another attack. A moment later, he felt the beast's presence.

_Behind!  
_

Brandon whirled, bringing the full-weight of his axe down. The beast's gurgled caw resounded across the passageway as it exploded into a mess of blood, brain matter, and black feathers.

He did a quick survey of the area and found nothing. Damn. This pest had allowed its ally to escape with William's body. With a frown, Brandon walked out of the alley of bloodshed and began searching for his van. Those wretches would soon find an uninvited guest - their worst nightmare - at their doorstep.


	11. Obstacles

Knowing the danger Brandon always faced, Millennion had equipped the necrolyzer's van with a first aid kit. Unfortunately, the box never contained necrolyzation serum. The organization feared that during emergency cases, Albert might just apply the serum on Brandon's wounds without checking the expiration date.

If his flesh hadn't attracted microbes like sugar did to ants, Brandon wouldn't have let Albert cleanse and bandage his wounds. No serum meant no accelerated healing process, while every second counted in reaching William.

After putting on his t-shirt and greatcoat, he picked up his Bonehacker and bolted past Albert and the van.

"Where are you going?" Albert asked.

Brandon kept running.

"Don't tell me that you're heading to the enemy's base by yourself!" Albert shouted. "That is insane! Look at your axe and think."

Brandon halted and stared at the Bonehacker in his hand. Millennion had crafted the axe to replace his Cerberus, one of the few firearms in the town that could easily bring a necrolyzer to its knees.

"You get what I mean?"

Looking over his shoulder, Brandon nodded.

"Then ask Millennion to send reinforcements." Albert took his phone out of his pants pocket and gave it to Brandon. "Here."

Brandon looked away and shook his head. _As if I can't figure out a way to overcome the problems by myself..._

"Are you out of your mind?"

"I am not," Brandon retorted. "Anti-Necrolyze men have families. If they die, they'll leave their wives and kids behind. When that happens, how can those innocent, vulnerable souls survive in this cruel town?" He resumed his run.

"You forgot something." Albert's rapid footsteps drew closer. "You have a kid, too."

Brandon stopped. For a moment, the street became unnaturally quiet...

Then a deafening smash broke the silence. Glaring at the street lamp he'd just kicked down, he grumbled, "Look. I knocked this thing down by myself. With a kick. In just a few seconds. A bunch of humans couldn't do this."

"I get that you're strong, but it won't hurt to have a few Anti-Necrolyze squads with you. You'll become an even bigger threat to the enemies."

Brandon turned and pointed his axe at Albert. "Shut your mouth before I have to shut it for you!"

"You dare?" Albert crossed his arms. "We're both men of Millennion." When Brandon approached him, he only said, "I know what kind of person you are. You won't dare."

Brandon gave Albert's head a light tap with the bottom of his axe handle. Once the driver slumped to the ground, Brandon placed the Bonehacker between his teeth and hoisted the unconscious man back to their van. His height let him place his axe on the roof of the vehicle.

With his teeth free, he bit the door handle and pulled it. The door opened, and he tossed Albert's body into the van. The layers of metal would grant the driver more protection than lying there on the pavement.

 _Remember your wife and kids._ Brandon looked at Albert's body with a teary eye. _They need you.  
_

Before closing the door and leaving with the Bonehacker, he opened the window a little so that Albert could still receive some oxygen.

Throughout his journey, he kicked down street lamps and left them on the middle of the road. With so many obstacles, nobody would reach him before he slaughtered the enemies.

* * *

He couldn't tell the time from the full moon. The environment didn't help either; while he only needed a group of humans and some speeding cars to know the time, he found none wandering around the path to the mountains.

No. That didn't matter. He only aimed to reach William before the enemies killed the doctor.

The surroundings blurred as he streaked along the road. William once said his top speed rivaled that of a hunting lion's, but unlike that beast, he could keep running that fast for at least two hours. As long as he received his therapy, his muscles could store so much oxygen that his body would take a long time to start producing fatigue poisons.

_Squeak!_

Brandon didn't have time for that.

_Squeak! Squeak! Squeak!_

The inharmonious chorus drew closer. With gritted teeth, he stopped and whirled. Rats. Big, fat rats with needle-like incisors. From their gleaming red eyes and knife-like claws, he could tell that these were no ordinary pests.

This would take some time, but if he didn't deal with this swarm of tailed furballs now, he wouldn't arrive at his enemy's base in perfect condition. The rolling wave of black would leave a lot of bite and claw marks upon crashing down on him.

He charged at them and with two mighty swings, he sent blood and chopped rats flying everywhere. Some survived, one of which he seized with his teeth. He gave its bones a good crunch before flinging it away.

Something gnawed at him below and sent beads of sticky fluid down his leg. Looking down, he found a bunch of rats clinging to his left thigh. _You think you're safe that way?_ He scraped his axe across the infested limb several times, shaving off slices of furry flesh.

With the rats gone, Brandon resumed his journey. Those pests' claws and fangs never dug too deep into his sinew, so he could still bolt along the road. The stickiness around his left leg bothered him a bit, though.

His wild white mane and black greatcoat fluttered in the night breeze. Everything around him blurred, while the wind howled. These usually put humans and even necrolyzers in a bad position due to unclear vision and hearing, yet for Brandon, they were nothing. Living with only one eye for a year had enabled his ears to filter unimportant noises, and growing up in the streets had given him good intuition.

"Help!"

A child's cry came from nearby, at which Brandon stopped. His eye widened momentarily when he found himself standing on a mountain pass. A cliff, separated from the path by a worn railing, rested beside him. A grassy terrain lay on his other side.

When he looked back, he found a gigantic woman and girl lying like fallen trees on the verdant ground. Their eyes were shut. Their tattered clothes showed much of their green skin, with the woman looking more yellow than the girl. _Much like a wilting plant_ , Brandon thought.

However, the skin color didn't surprise him as much as the realization of who these necrolyzers were. When he approached them, he recognized them as Christina and Nina. What the hell had the enemy - or perhaps Bernard - done to them?

"Help me!" Nina screamed, her stiff limbs thrashing like those of a malfunctioning robot's. "It's so cold! I can't breathe!"

Brandon's eye watered at the sight. The girl brought him back to what happened last year. After Dr. Tokioka's death, Brandon could no longer receive the therapy. A few days later, whenever he ventured the streets at night, the wind chilled him to the bone. His muscles gradually stiffened as well, hampering his breathing and mobility.

Poor, poor kid; she had to experience the pain of decomposition at such a tender age!

Kneeling beside her, Brandon racked his brain for a solution. Perhaps he should bring her to Millennion, but would the organization help the child of a wanted criminal?

"I can't open my eyes... Is someone there?" Christina spoke.

"Yes?"

"Brandon?"

"Yeah."

"Thank goodness," Christina replied. Somehow, Brandon could sense her invisible smile.

"Mommy! Mr. Brandon!" Nina bawled. "Help me! It's so cold!"

Brandon put down his axe and pulled Nina into his one-armed embrace.

"I still can't breathe!" Nina cried out, scratching across the bridge of Brandon's nose by accident.

Much to his sadness, Brandon couldn't help her when it came to breathing issues. The stiff chest wall would go away by itself in three days, but how could he comfort an agitated child with only words? Besides, Nina would've died before that.

"Our necrolyzation is about to expire," Christina muttered, tears forming around her closed eyes, "but a child like Nina couldn't possibly endure the pain." Her already shallow breathing became even weaker.

Brandon hugged Nina even tighter, tears trickling down his eye as Nina continued wailing.

"Brandon, please end Nina's pain..." Then her breathing ceased.

 _No!_ As much as Brandon wanted to scream, he resisted the urge for Nina. The little girl had had enough. Unfortunately, Nina slipped away from his arm during the moment of disorientation.

"Don't leave me, Mr. Brandon!"

He had never encountered such a distressed child. _If only there was a way to help her..._ When he looked down, he spotted his Bonehacker and thought of an idea. _No. I don't think I can do that to a child._

"It's getting cold!"

 _I have no choice._ He picked up his Bonehacker and raised it. _Nina, if you still can open your eyes, don't open them now, please._ His hand grew unsteady as he brought his axe down, which forced him to take a break. Breathing heavily, he told himself, _I can't do it._

"Help!"

More tears streamed down his face. He had to end her pain now; that was what Nina's mother wanted, too. Closing his eye, he raised his axe and brought it down.

And the cry died away.

Brandon remained still, wondering which bastard had the heart to do such a thing. William? Unlikely, because he actually necrolyzed Bernard out of love. Bernard? Brandon didn't know a lot about this doctor, so he couldn't be sure.

But whoever did this to Christina and her daughter had to die. Standing up and averting his gaze from the bloody mess, he looked at his axe. The crimson fluid dripping off its bit reminded him that he had to kill the perpetrator now; else Mika's blood would stain the blade as well.

 _Never!_ Unsatisfied, he let his rage burst out of his mouth. "That will _never_ happen! _Never!_ "

He set off.

* * *

Hadn't he wasted enough time already? First, Albert tried to stop him. Then, a swarm of rats ran after him. After that, he had to deal with the necrolyzed Christina and Nina.

Now, he had a pack of hellhounds in his way, along with three overgrown gray-haired men.

With a bestial roar, Brandon cut a swath through the hell beasts and their bipedal companions. Blood and severed body parts flew everywhere.

Bang!

Sharp pain shot up from Brandon's left side and sent him face-first to the ground. He supported himself up with his arm, only to fall back down immediately. The wound burned like hell whenever he breathed.

"You're being careless, aren't you?" a man's voice came from the left. "How unusual. But that's good for me."

Lying on the ground, Brandon stared at the source of the noise. A gray-haired giant stood on the branch of the lone tree by the railing, his eyes concealed behind a pair of shades. He had an anti-necrolyze rifle in his hands.

"We meet again, Mr. Brandon." The man hopped off the branch. "You remember me?"

Wincing, Brandon shook his head. Breathing more lightly relieved the pain a little, but the inability to inhale enough oxygen would soon take a toll on his body.

"I'm one of the basement guards." He grinned. "I died when I took those girls to West District."

"Nick!" Brandon suddenly screamed, which intensified the burning sensation from the wound. "You-" Another jolt of pain cut him short.

"I listen only to Dr. Bernard now!" A click echoed as Nick slid the pump handle. "I won't let you pass until he's done with his work!"

Brandon cried out loud as a bullet struck him in his left shoulder. Beads of sweat rolled down his face as his heart hammered wildly at the pain. If only he had Cerberus... No. Things would also be easy if he could shield himself from those hazardous projectiles.

When he heard another click, he placed the Bonehacker between his teeth and crawled towards the mutilated corpses of his enemies. He seized a decapitated body and held it up to block the incoming bullet. Nick cocked the pump and fired again, but he merely scored a hit on the corpse.

Nick trembled as he took a few steps backwards.

Even though the wounds stung, Brandon forced himself to his feet. Shield up, he charged at the terrified Nick.

"Get lost!" Nick screamed as he slid the pump handle and fired a potshot. "Scram!"

Brandon rammed Nick down and kicked the anti-necrolyze rifle away. After discarding the corpse, he grabbed the Bonehacker and raised it.

"Wait!" Nick hid his face behind his arms. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Brandon's axe cleaved through arms and skull alike. "You said you listen only to Dr. Bernard now. Millennion has no place for a disloyal man like you."

With Nick gone, Brandon resumed the journey. However, he could no longer run. The invisible fire in his lung seared everything around it. With the pain amplified by walking, he had to breathe even more lightly.

His vision began to blur and darken. To prevent collapsing, he grabbed the railing beside him and continued his walk. It didn't take long until the worn metal snapped. With the support gone, Brandon finally fell.

_Must...keep...going..._

Brandon inched ahead, the toil causing the invisible fire and needles within to amplify each foot he managed to drag his body. It didn't take more than five minutes for the pain to send him to oblivion.


	12. His Accursed Brother

_"William," called the ten-year-old Bernard from their bedroom, "come here. I have something interesting to tell you."_

_Once William, then only seven years old, had entered the room, Bernard shut the door and locked it. William looked at his older brother, puzzled. "Why lock the door?"_

_"Never mind." Sitting on the bed, he patted the space beside him. "Sit here." Once William had sat down, he asked, "You know what 'necrolyzation' is?"_

_William shook his head._

_"It's a technology of reviving the dead. I heard it from Dad." Bernard grinned. "Sounds cool, doesn't it? It can bring grandma back!"_

_"Wow!"_

_"Dad is still developing that with his friends," Bernard replied. "Heard that it might take about ten years."_

* * *

_A few days later, when Mad Dog Ladd raided Millennion's research facility, William wished that necrolyzation could exist now. His dad couldn't possibly survive the gunshot wounds.  
_

_Peeking through the glass doors, William could see his mother, Whitney, crying as she walked out of the emergency room. A lump built up in William's throat as tears welled in his eyes._

_Bernard hugged him, sobbing, "William..."_

_William returned the embrace and wailed, "Dad is gone!" He hugged Bernard even tighter. "Dad!"_

_A gust of cool air blew against them as the doors slid open. Then Whitney stepped out of the building._

_"I want to learn necrolyzation now," William murmured._

_Whitney's eyes widened. "Necrolyzation? Where did you hear that from? Kids aren't supposed to know that!"_

_"Why?" William asked. "It's a good thing, right? It brings people back to life."_

_"Giving life to a dead human won't be as easy as you think."_

* * *

_When William learned more about necrolyzation, he realized that his mother spoke the truth. One couldn't truly give life to the dead; just like the material they came from, necrolyzers would decay. To avoid that, necrolyzers had to receive a regular therapy that cost at least twenty million yules. Moreover, once people identified them as reanimated corpses, they'd either use them as expendable super soldiers or simply reject them._

_"_ __We are_ __condemning the revived individuals to live and die in agony,_ _ _ _" his senior, Dr. Tokioka, once said. "Do we have the right to do that?_ __Do you think He will forgive us?_ "_

_However, after taking care of Brandon for some time, William concluded that one could lessen necrolyzers' pain by treating them with kindness. So when he saw the dying Bernard, he resolved to provide his brother the love and therapy he needed after the necrolyzation._

_Only if he hadn't miscalculated when Bernard would rise... When William found his brother's empty grave, he could only cry at his stupidity: using the expired serum before Millennion performed more research on that drug._

* * *

A pair of red eyes greeted William when he woke up.

"You're awake, huh, my accursed brother?" the owner of those hostile eyes - a green-skinned giant with a dented head - asked.

"Bernard!" William sat up, his eyes widening. His brother stood before him, scratching one of his pointed ears with a finger.

"Too bad I can't make you look like me," Bernard grumbled, crossing his arms. "You were more stubborn than I thought."

Stubborn? William looked down, trying to remember what had happened before everything went black. A necrolyzer carried him away from Brandon, and then... William scratched his head and squinted. An image of the necrolyzer pouring a vial of necrolyzation serum into his mouth materialized in his mind.

He remembered. Not even the feeding tube inserted into his nostril would make him accept the vile green fluid.

"It's my man's fault as well," Bernard continued. "He should've tried harder instead of smashing your head against a window. Ingested serum will only work on a living thing."

"Living? You mean- No!" Panicked, William looked at his hands, which were still tan. He sniffed the air, screaming when he couldn't smell anything.

"What? You're upset?" Bernard laughed. "You deserve it."

"This can't be!" William glared at Bernard with teary eyes. "Why? Why did you do this?"

"Why did you necrolyze me? Answer that, and you'll know why."

William looked down. No, there was a misunderstanding, and Bernard had to know that.

"Bernard," William began calmly, "I necrolyzed you because it hurt me to see your condition at the ICU. You were dying."

"You necrolyzed me out of _love_?" Bernard spat. "Liar. If you did love me, you shouldn't have left me disfigured like this."

"But-"

"Guys!" Bernard called, walking away from William. "Put him in the attic!"

"No!" As William reached out to his brother, muscular hands seized his arms. Looking around, he saw two overgrown gray-haired men.

"I need some time to think about your punishment."

"Bernard!" William screamed as the necrolyzers dragged him out of the lab and towards a staircase. His back and legs banged against the steps as they went up. For a moment, he struggled against the grip, but then he saw a holstered Cerberus handgun strapped to each of the necrolyzers' belts.

_I'm not a fighter like Brandon.  
_

The attic's door creaked open. A black cat stood on top of the tower of crates, its red eyes gleaming. William shuddered at the beast's fangs and overflowing saliva; spending some time here would keep him awake no matter how sleepy he was.

"There you go," one of the necrolyzers said as he and his friend hurled William at the crates. The cat jumped off the toppling boxes and landed on William's chest. With a loud, angry mew, the beast slashed at William.

William blocked the claws with an arm. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

The cat hissed before walking away from him. Just when William sat up and let out a sigh of relief, the muscular hands seized him again. Then a double braid rope came wrapping around his body like a boa constrictor.

"This rope is nothing for necrolyzers, but do you have the guts to escape?" one of the necrolyzers asked with a wicked grin.

Sweat rolling down his temple, William shook his head with frantic, neck-spraining speed.

The necrolyzer kicked William in the gut. "You'd better be serious about that."

"Y-yes."

"Dex." The necrolyzer turned to his friend. "You stay here. Don't let him escape."

"Roger that, Ted," Dex replied.

"See ya." With that, Ted walked out of the attic and slammed the door shut.

William looked at his restraint, wondering how he could reconcile with his brother. Somehow, necrolyzation reminded him of euthanasia. Having a doctor terminate the life of a very ill family member would end one's suffering, but killing was still terrible.

 _Meanwhile, necrolyzation can bring a loved one back to life_ , William thought, shifting his gaze to the window beside him, _but it lengthens one's suffering._

"Hey, what are you looking at?" Dex barked. "You're thinking that Brandon will come to save you?"

"I'm no longer his friend."

"That doesn't matter. I bet he'll save you just to spite our boss."

 _And to punish me_ , William added.

"Honestly, our boss has no problem with him. It's our collaborator who wants him beaten up and sent back to Millennion. He gives us necrolyzation serum in return."

William raised an eyebrow. "Collaborator?"

"Dr. Zach Reinhardt. He earns money each time he visits Brandon. He'll get more if he performs a medical procedure on him." Dex sighed. "Well, I'm not supposed to mention his name, but since we've cut our ties with him, I don't see a problem."

"Zach?" William looked down. "It makes sense now. He killed my family so that I wouldn't be coming to take care of Brandon for some time."

Dex laughed. "Nah, Boss did that to teach you a lesson. He killed and necrolyzed them. Then he sent them away. You know, he believed the best punishment for those who rejected him was letting them face the same thing." He paused. "He planned to do the same thing on you, but he failed because you refused to swallow the serum no matter what."

William shuddered. "I can't believe it. My brother is a monster."

"He's one because nobody wants him to be a human."

"What do you mean?"

"Boss actually tried to be friendly to everybody, but they all either ran away or chased him off. The exception was a blind hobo, but when he introduced Boss to his friends... Guess what happened."

Tearing up, William recalled what he'd ever read in Dr. Tokioka's journal.

_"Treat them with love and respect, and they'll learn to appreciate every living thing around them. Treat them like they're real monsters, and they'll really be monsters."_

William now knew what to do. He just hoped that it wasn't too late to redeem his brother.

Minutes passed with William sitting still. Boredom persuaded him to close his eyes, but the cat's fiery glare kept him awake. Even Dex, a necrolyzer with a Cerberus handgun, didn't scare him as much as that beast did.

Suddenly, William heard screams and roars from outside. Looking through the window, he saw a giant hellhound surrounded by necrolyzers. Wasn't that dog under Bernard's command? It seemed like the overgrown gray-haired men wanted to attack it.

The gargantuan hound howled as the blade of an axe burst out of its neck and tore its throat open. A leg, followed by an arm, emerged from the opening. Then a white-haired man in a black greatcoat shot out of the wound.

"Brandon!" William screamed, his eyes widening in shock and horror.

Plummeting down, Brandon cleaved the necrolyzer beneath in two. As the other men ran to him, he swung his axe wildly and turned himself into a storm of slashing blades. William shuddered at the splattered blood and flying body parts.

Behind the axe-wielding necrolyzer, the dog came to chomp him down. Turning around, Brandon sidestepped and jumped onto the dog's snout. He ran up to the top of the beast's head before bringing the full-weight of his axe down. Four times. The giant hellhound collapsed with its skull split open.

If William's digestive system still worked, he'd have thrown up. This was much worse than the surgery he'd watched during his study to be a doctor.

When Brandon jumped off the fallen dog's head, a necrolyzer rushed towards him from behind. With a whirl, Brandon smashed the spiked butt of his axe into the man's face. As the necrolyzer collapsed, Brandon raised his weapon. A few seconds after a sudden pause, he placed it between his teeth.

"Huh?" William quirked an eyebrow.

Brandon grabbed the necrolyzer's leg and stomped down while pulling with his arm. He raised the limb above his head and brought it down as a bludgeon. The necrolyzer screamed at first, but the blows that showered down on his thrashing body beat silence into him. Then the brains out of him.

Averting his gaze from the bloodbath, William screamed.

"Scared?" Dex asked.

"Of course!" William cried out. "I've never seen him like this!"

"Well, the guy he's just beaten was the one who hurt Mika."

Suddenly, the attic's door flung open. Bernard and Ted stepped in.

"I've thought of a brilliant idea, my accursed brother!" Bernard's booming laughter echoed across the room as he approached William.

William gulped, his heart pounding wildly.

Picking William up by the back of his collar, he said, "Brandon will love this."

"No!" William's muscles tensed. In less than a second, he broke through the restraint and thrashed. "Stop it!"

"You deserve it." Upon reaching the staircase, Bernard threw William down. "I can die in peace after this."

William crashed into the wooden floor face-first. Regaining his composure, he looked around. The bifurcated body of a necrolyzer landed beside him.

A man loomed before him, his axe and clothes covered in blood. A one-eyed stare greeted William when he looked up.

"He's yours!" Bernard shouted from above. "Enjoy!"

Crying, William got up and ran up the stairs. Images of the dead hellhound and necrolyzers earlier flashed across his mind. When he reached the top, though, Bernard kicked him back down.

William closed his eyes as he rolled down the steps. At least, he wouldn't see what Brandon would do to him.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Bernard's voice echoed across the area. "He's down there!"

William opened his eyes to see that Brandon had arrived at the top. With a mighty swing, he hacked through Dex's and Ted's skulls and ended their barrage of Cerberus rounds. Although he left a trail of blood as he moved, he kept dragging himself towards Bernard. A cat jumped at him, but it only managed to leave a scratch on his leg before collapsing as a headless corpse.

"Back off!" Bernard yelled, flogging Brandon rapidly and repeatedly. "Scram!"

Brandon may no longer be his friend, yet William winced at the sight of him braving through the forest of lashing leather. _That must hurt... No, stop it, Bernard!_ Gritting his teeth, William stood up and climbed up the stairs.

"Brandon! Bernard! Stop!" he shouted, tears streaming from his eyes as he went to grab Brandon by the back of his collar. Before he could pull the necrolyzer back, the flat side of Brandon's axe smacked him in the face.

"I'll wait for you in Hell, William," Bernard grumbled as Brandon lopped his head off and crushed it under his foot.

Stunned and mouth agape, William looked at the bloody mess. His brother had died before William managed to show him how much he loved him. _No..._

Suddenly, Brandon seized him by his neck. "I didn't come to save you," he murmured, panting as blood trickled down his temple. "I just need you..." His grip gradually loosened. "...to..." His voice softened to the point William could barely hear him. "...speak..." Then he collapsed.

"Damn you! Because of you, my brother died hating me!" William kicked Brandon's unconscious body away. He then picked up the bloodstained axe beside him and raised it. "Die!"

As he brought the weapon down, his mind's eye saw a crying Mika kneeling before Brandon's grave. An image of him bawling his eyes out at Christina's, Nina's, and Whitney's death followed.

_What will I get from killing him? Bernard won't be coming back._

Then he remembered Brandon warning him about Nancy's condition, accompanying him as he brought Nancy to a psychiatrist... Then the image of him teaching Brandon the basic exercises for an amputee flashed across his eye. The axe finally slipped out of his hand when he remembered Brandon defending him from the nasty Norton.

_We used to help each other like a family. We shouldn't end up hating each other because of this._

William rushed towards the crates and broke one of them with a punch. Vials of golden liquid lay on the bottom of the smashed box. After nabbing a few of them, he ran back to Brandon.

Sitting down beside the unconscious necrolyzer, William placed the vials of refined serum beside him and began undressing Brandon. He then rolled the body like a log to check his back. The lack of wounds relieved him.

After returning Brandon to supine position, William picked up a vial of serum and removed the cap. As he spread the liquid across the gashes and gunshot wounds on Brandon's torso, he muttered with a smile, "This reminds me of the good old days. I wonder if we can go back."

As the serum dried up, new flesh grew to seal the wounds shut. However, the gunshot wounds on his left side and shoulder remained gaping with blood oozing out of them.

"Anti-necrolyze bullets," William concluded, covering Brandon with the greatcoat before standing up. "Hold still. I'll take them out."

William descended the staircase and ran along the hallway. After a few doors, he found what he wanted: a lab. Door kicked down, he went to search the drawers. Sterile gloves came across his sight several times, but he couldn't find any surgery sets.

 _I'd better leave the bullet extraction to Millennion_ , he thought, grabbing a plastic bag, a piece of paper, and a pen from the drawer. Before heading back to the attic, he wrote, _"Dr. Zach Reinhardt is behind everything,"_ and put the piece of paper into the bag.

Upstairs, after putting as many vials of serum as possible into the plastic bag, he placed it between his teeth and returned to Brandon. Then he carried the unconscious necrolyzer.

 _Here we go._ With that, William smashed through the attic's window. His ears registered chattering and footsteps as he landed on the ground.

Millennion agents, ranging from regular enforcers to Anti-Necrolyze men, had come. Albert was the first to spot him and Brandon. "William?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.

The Anti-Necrolyze agents took aim, causing William to drop Brandon. After putting down the bag of serum, William fled.

"Don't let him get away!"

Gunshots exploded everywhere, and an anti-necrolyze round hit him in his left elbow. Ignoring the searing pain, he kept running along the mountain trail until he spotted a forest.

William could hear neither stray footsteps nor chattering inside the woods, yet he refused to stop. However, after a few minutes of silence, he decided to sit down.

Leaning against a tree, he looked up at the starry sky. "Brandon," he muttered with a tearful smile, "I hope we can be friends again." _  
_


	13. Blood in the Trailer

_"Dr. Zach Reinhardt is behind everything."_

Upon reading that message, Biscoe scratched his head with a finger.

"The agents found it among the vials of serum in a plastic bag," Norton told him. "William carried that bag along with the unconscious Brandon out of the villa."

"So, it was written by our enemies." Biscoe crumpled up the piece of paper and tossed it into the trash can. "Better not trust it."

"You have a point, Biscoe, but we should try interrogating Dr. Zach. He must know a lot," Norton suggested, typing on his laptop. "Remember that phone? The culprit knew when Brandon was coming to the lab. Only Dr. Zach and Dr. Douglas knew the exact time."

Biscoe stared at Norton. "What makes you think that Dr. Zach is likely the one behind this?"

Norton stopped typing. "You know how much it costs to have a baby staying in the neonatal ICU for weeks? Also, it's not like his premature son will be leaving the hospital anytime soon."

"Yeah, but I don't see how his action can give him money."

"He replaces William." Leaning against the backrest, Norton crossed his arms over his chest. "We pay him each time he visits Brandon, and he'll get more if he performs a medical procedure on him."

"Don't you think that he'll be spending a lot to amass an army of undead?"

"Biscoe, necrolyzation is cheap. It's the maintenance of necrolyzers' health that costs a lot. I bet he only sustains important people like Bernard." Norton stood up. "Let's visit him now."

"Later. You know how close Dr. Zach is to him right now. It's too dangerous."

"Brandon is not that weak." As Norton walked ahead, Biscoe seized the tail of his suit and pulled him back. "What do you think he is? A frail old man?"

"He took an anti-necrolyze bullet to his lung," Biscoe reasoned. "Even though it has been extracted, the poison remains and will hurt him whenever he breathes."

"He will beat the crap out of Zach." After swatting Biscoe's hand away, Norton resumed his walk.

"Come back here!" Unfortunately, the order fell into deaf ears. "You're just my second-in-command, you know?"

Norton looked back at Biscoe and sighed. "I hate it when you use your position to deal with me." Then he returned to his seat.

"You must know that you're still my second-in-command only because you're extremely good at making shady deals," Biscoe groused. "I don't like your attitude."

"I always do what's the best for us."

"But it's always at the cost of others' well-being, especially Brandon's."

"That's why necrolyzers were created." Norton shrugged. "They're supposed to serve us, not live like one of us."

"Try saying that to Miss Mika. I bet she'll beat the living daylights out of you."

"Hmph." With a frown, Norton returned his focus to his laptop.

Biscoe opened the drawer under his desk and took a logbook out of it. Considering how much Millennion had spent just to treat Brandon's wounds, he'd better find a way to get more money for the organization. Luckily, he found a business opportunity in the logbook; Richard Wong of Gatou Gang showed interest in his old casino.

Grinning slightly, Biscoe picked up the phone on the desk. Wong knew how to resurrect a dying business place, so he'd better pay a lot for this casino. After dialing a set of number and hearing a few beeps, Biscoe began, "Good morning, Mr. Wong."

"This is Mr. Biscoe, isn't it?" Wong asked. "Tell me about the casino."

"I'm selling it, but it's not cheap. Pay me with one of your opium dens in addition to the money."

"What a greedy man you are," Wong mocked. "Well, it's not worth it. The casino is old and at a very bad location after all."

"I thought your gang was a group of natural-born businessmen." Biscoe smiled at Norton, who had taught him this way of talking. "Guess I was wrong."

"It seems like you are challenging me," Wong replied; although he sounded calm, Biscoe could feel that he'd angered the man a bit. "Fine. Come to my Jade Dragon Restaurant at 8PM. We'll talk about it."

"All right. See you later." Biscoe hung up the phone.

"Are you sure that you've just talked to Mr. Wong?" Norton asked with a quirked eyebrow. "He fell for that too easily."

"A business place draws him like sugar does to ants." Biscoe picked up a pen from the pencil cup at the edge of the table. As he wrote the additional note about Wong and the casino in the logbook, his phone rang. It came from Harris. _Oh, no._

Just as expected, he heard Mika's quiet sobs. "Mr. Biscoe, can I talk to Brandon now?"

"Sorry, Miss, but he's still sleeping."

"Liar!" Mika yelled. "Just say that you haven't visited him today!"

 _You're right. I just paid too much attention to the case and business._ Looking down with a long face, Biscoe said, "I'll go see him now. When he's up, I'll call back, okay?"

"Keep your promise!" Then the phone went off.

"She screamed at you, didn't she? What an insolent brat." Norton chuckled, standing up. "Let's go see Brandon now."

"I know what's in your mind, Norton. Stay here. This is an order from your boss."

* * *

When Biscoe approached Brandon's trailer at the basement, he couldn't help but look at it in awe. Who had reattached the doors? Entering it, he also found that the missing armrest - currently acting as a bed rail for Brandon - had returned.

"You finally come, Boss," Zach greeted him from the bench further beside Brandon's bed. "Brandon was up about an hour ago, but he wasn't really in the mood to wake up. So he slept again."

Biscoe closed the door. "I see." He walked towards Brandon, who was bandaged from head to toe with an oxygen mask and a three-way IV line attached to him. "I guess he'd better sleep now." Turning away and heading towards the trailer's exit, Biscoe said, "I'll come back later."

"Wait."

With a raised eyebrow, Biscoe looked at Zach. "Huh?"

"Can you ask Mr. Norton to come over? I need to talk to him."

"Do you _really_ need him here?"

"Yes. He borrowed my money last night."

"All right." Biscoe took out his phone. After tapping the "send a message" option beside Norton's name, he typed, _"Come to the trailer. Dr. Zach wants to see you."_

"Thank you," Zach told Biscoe. "Last night, Mr. Norton used his money to have the trailer fixed. But he didn't bring enough cash, so he borrowed some from me."

"Strange... He's supposed to use the organization's money."

"It baffled me as well. He's never nice to Brandon, yet he spent his own money for Brandon's sake."

A groan came from behind.

"He's up again," Zach commented.

Biscoe looked back, only to end up wincing at the sight. Brandon clutched his left side, breathing quickly and lightly with a half-closed eye. As Biscoe moved closer to him, the mob boss could see beads of sweat rolling down his temple.

"Be strong." Biscoe took a kerchief from his pants pocket and wiped the moisture off Brandon's lethargic face. "The poison will go away soon."

Brandon nodded.

"Just sleep. You won't feel so painful that way."

A creak came from the trailer's entrance, followed by a raspy, unpleasant voice of a man, "I believe sixteen hours are enough for a necrolyzer."

"Norton!" Biscoe stared at Norton while pointing at the half-awake Brandon. "Just look at him! He's too weak to do anything!"

"Really?" With a wicked smile, Norton approached the bed. "I heard he had an anti-necrolyze bullet in his lung when he took down Bernard and his cohorts. That was a lie then."

"Mr. Norton," Zach called, his voice a bit unsettling this time. "Let me guess. You're thinking of provoking him."

"What's the matter?" Norton looked at the approaching Zach. "You want to stop me?"

"Hmm, perfect timing."

Schlikt!

"Wha-" A punch to the gut silenced Norton.

Biscoe's eyes widened at the sight when he saw three bloody bone blades poking out of Norton's back. "What the hell? Dr. Zach, you're-"

"Superior to both humans and necrolyzers." Pulling back his clawed fist, Zach kicked Norton's falling body away. "It was so that I could keep Bernard in control, although he was quite a rebellious guy."

"So, you two were a team after all!" Biscoe took a pistol out of his suit and pointed it at Zach.

"You'd better put that peashooter away and help your right-hand man." Zach shifted his gaze to the half-conscious Norton. "A good boss of Millennion should save his-"

A bestial roar drew Biscoe's and Zach's attention. Brandon glared daggers at both of them, his oxygen mask off and his IV line between his teeth.

"Brandon, don't-"

Blood gushed out of Brandon's hand as he sprang at Zach and crushed the doctor's scrawny body under his weight. Noticing Zach's twitching arms, Brandon hammered his fist into the doctor's wrinkled face. Multiple times.

"Look out!" Biscoe warned as three bloody blades popped out of Zach's other hand.

"He's too angry to listen to you." Zach plunged the blades into Brandon's left side, reducing his incoming blow into a puny jab. In a slow, sawing motion, the doctor tore Brandon's muscles asunder. An agonized scream burst out of Brandon's mouth as tears streamed out of his eye.

"Stop it!" Biscoe frantically fired at Zach, but all the bullets bounced off the doctor's body. "Stop!"

"Pay me then."

Biscoe's gun slipped out of his hand as he looked at the doctor with a gaping mouth.

"Give me one billion yules and three crates of refined serum," the stone-faced doctor demanded, still sawing through Brandon's flesh. The necrolyzer's cry grew fainter and fainter.

"That's too much!" Biscoe snapped.

"Hmm..." Ripping his claws out of Brandon, Zach flung the limp and silent necrolyzer away. After rising to his feet, he seized Brandon by his neck and pointed the blades at necrolyzer's closed eye. "I wonder what I should do to him now."

"Let him go!"

Zach drove his claws through Brandon's stomach and pulled them back, adding more blood to the puddle of crimson beneath. "Pay me first."

 _Brandon..._ Biscoe could feel something wet and warm in his eyes as he averted his gaze from the horror. If he gave Zach what he wanted, he'd risk Millennion's financial stability; sooner or later, it'd affect everybody in the organization. But if he didn't...

"Still waiting?" Zach asked, drawing Biscoe's attention. The doctor was now pointing his claws at the fresh gashes on the stump of Brandon's right leg.

Biscoe remembered what he'd done to show how strict he was as a mob boss. Because he needed a man to eliminate Millennion's splinter-faction, he'd forced the once treasonous Brandon to put on a prosthetic leg before the wound on his stump healed. Stench of rusty iron and rotten meat plagued his senses when he recalled how Brandon returned from the mission.

_I often wonder if I've done enough to make up for that crime.  
_

"Come on. He's losing even more blood," Zach reminded, tearing his bloody claws out of Brandon's left thigh.

 _But if I paid Zach, Millennion's financial stability would be at risk._ After taking a deep breath, he murmured, "No."

"That's it." Zach pressed his claws against Brandon's bandaged forehead, drawing out blood. "This means he's a mere tool for you, so I see no point in keeping him alive." He pushed the blades deeper, soaking the entire fabric red and sending a few rivulets of crimson down Brandon's face.

"All right! I'll get your money and serum ready!" Biscoe cast a fierce, yet tearful glare at Zach. "Now, let him go!"

"Yes." The straight-faced Zach retracted his claws before hurling the unconscious Brandon at the bed. "As you prepare the payment, I'll take care of his wounds. I won't do anything bad to him, but you'd better give me the right amount of money and serum. Else I'll come back to kill him."

* * *

With his second-in-command at the hospital, Biscoe had to spend three hours to gather the serum and pack the money in a few briefcases. Luckily, his men had pillaged many crates of that golden liquid from Bernard's base, so the loss didn't hurt him that much.

When his agents had placed the payment inside Zach's car, he headed to the trailer. Brandon was now asleep on his bed, fully bandaged with an oxygen mask on his face, while Zach was sitting on the steel bench further beside him.

"Is it done?" Zach asked.

"I did my best to make sure that you didn't get less."

"I hope so." Walking past Biscoe and towards the trailer's exit, he summoned his claws and raised them. "Else these will go wild."

Biscoe followed the doctor all the way to the car, his heart pounding wildly as his limbs became unsteady. Images of the doctor shredding Brandon's chest flashed across his eyes. A scream almost escaped from his mouth when Brandon's cry replayed in his head.

After retracting his claws, Zach carried the briefcases out of the car and put them on the ground. Kneeling, he opened them and counted the bundles of money within. Then he went to check the contents of the crates.

About an hour later later, the doctor put the payment back in the car. "Thank you. If my research is successful, I won't bother you again."

"Research?"

Zach slammed the door shut. "I'm finding a way to revive the dead."

"There is necrolyzation."

"Necrolyzation is flawed," Zach rebutted, walking towards the driver's cockpit. "I want to bring people back as humans."

"Impossible." Biscoe folded his arms over his chest. "Humans can never do that."

"Haven't I told you that I'm superior to humans?"

Biscoe only nodded. _I think you need to have your head checked._

Once Zach left with his car, Biscoe made his way back to the trailer. Never mind office work and Norton's absence; the injured Brandon needed him now.

Inside, after closing the door, he dragged a swivel chair towards Brandon's bed. Faint groans tore his heart as he moved closer to the necrolyzer.

"Brandon."

Eye still half-closed, Brandon slowly turned to him.

"Everything is fine now." Biscoe placed a hand on Brandon's head. "Don't worry."

Clutching his wounded chest tighter, Brandon grimaced and let out a weak, painful howl.

"Relax. It'll go away soon."

Brandon kept howling, which tempted Biscoe to forget about the meeting tonight. But if he didn't see Wong, what would happen to the organization? He'd just used up a lot of Millennion's money to save Brandon's life.

Then his mind's eye saw a feverish Brandon lying on the ground, helplessly struggling to get up like an overturned turtle. Even though Brandon had betrayed them, he didn't deserve such a treatment.

"I wish I could-" His ringing phone interrupted him. Taking it out of his pants pocket, he found out that it came from Harris. _Perfect!_

"Brandon, Miss Mika wants to talk." Biscoe tapped the green button before holding it beside Brandon's ear. "Hope it'll make you happy."

Biscoe wished he'd activated the loudspeaker; he wanted to know why Brandon was tearing up at the phone. However, he knew that loud noise would only hurt the necrolyzer's sensitive ears.

Soon, Brandon smiled. His tear-filled eye radiated with happiness as he muttered, "Yes. Daddy will be strong for Mika. See you tomorrow at the hospital, my little girl."

Biscoe scratched his head. "Uh, 'Daddy?'"

Brandon gently pushed the phone away. "She calls me that."

"It's a magic word, isn't it?" Biscoe smiled. "You look better now."

"Mika reminds me of the mistakes I have to fix. If I were a good daddy, I should've stayed by her side instead of going out for revenge." Brandon grasped his left side. "In addition, I shouldn't let these wounds stop me."

"You're never a bad daddy. You're just...flawed like everybody else." Biscoe kept his phone. "You were angry, but it was because of Miss Mika getting hurt. Also, it was amazing how you got up to attack Zach, although you should never bite off your IV line like that."

Brandon nodded. After a long pause, he told Biscoe, "You should focus on the office work, Sir. You have more than one-hundred men to protect, while I'm just one of them." He winced again, tightening his grip on his chest. "Ask Albert or Dr. Douglas for help." Brandon smiled the best he could. "Leave now. The organization needs you."

"All right." Biscoe stood up, taking out his phone again. _I just hope that this is also the best for you, because I'm still trying to make up for what I've done to you last year._


	14. Small Recovery

Although Brandon had slept for more than sixteen hours, he felt like everything remained cold, foggy, and unstable. The breeze in the dreamlike environment kept blowing against his eye. He, too, felt like his body had an unusually heavy boulder resting on top of it.

If he hadn't spoken to Mika earlier, he wouldn't have thought of going against the wind and hurling that invisible boulder away.

Once Biscoe left, Brandon lifted his sound leg into the air. Then he flexed his foot slowly and rhythmically, releasing his ankle from stiffness. As he repeated the foot flex, though, images of William lifting Brandon's leg flashed across his eye. The good old days... Now that Zach had shown his true colors, Brandon could perhaps forgive William and go back to those days. His old friend might have necrolyzed Bernard, but without Zach's involvement, maybe Bernard wouldn't have killed and hurt a lot of people.

No, they couldn't go back again. The last time he saw William, the doctor's hair had turned gray, his eyes had become golden, and jagged fangs had replaced his teeth. In a few days, he would decay to nothingness.

Twenty flexes later, he lowered his leg and smiled at how refreshing this little exercise was.

He continued with leg lifts. The exercise spawned fire and needles in his injured lung, but he brushed them off without much effort. _I've had worse than this._

Searing pain overwhelmed his lung after around thirty lifts and forced him to stop. He scowled and growled; this wasn't even a quarter of what he could do when he was healthy! After spending about a minute to catch his breath, he resumed the exercise again. His sweat now drenched the bandage around his head and torso.

Ten lifts later, someone knocked on the door. "Mr. Brandon, this is Albert!"

Brandon lowered his legs. "Come-" Pain shot up from his chest as he sat up, directing his hand to his wounded side.

The door opened, and Albert stepped in. Closing the door, he walked towards Brandon with a smile. "Up already?"

Brandon nodded.

As Albert approached his bed, the man scratched his head. "Your bandage is soaked? I don't think there's a problem with the aircon. Or did your chest hurt so much?"

"Just did a few leg lifts."

"A few? You shouldn't be sweating this much if it were true."

Brandon sighed. "Forty lifts aren't even a quarter of what I usually do."

"Your training regimen is just crazy. Three-hundred push-ups. Three-hundred sit-ups. Ten miles running. At least three times a week. Squats, leg lifts, and pull-ups can substitute the first two items." He shrugged. "Didn't the doctor say a thing about that?"

Brandon shook his head. William once instructed him to do one hundred push-ups and sit-ups in addition to three miles running, but he did them all without breaking a sweat. Then the doctor raised the regimen by fifty percent, which still wasn't challenging enough. Eventually, Brandon himself found the best regimen for him, and William approved it.

"By the way, you ever tried weightlifting?"

Brandon nodded slightly.

Albert seemed to notice the discontent in his face. "You know, you can't possibly get an armored truck to be your barbell."

Brandon grinned at how famous the story of the armored truck was. Maybe Mika spread the tale across the organization, because she was there when that incident happened. That massive vehicle crashed into the trailer, threatening to crush his and Mika's bones. But little did the enemies know that a necrolyzer, especially the one triggered by his child's terrified scream, could easily send an elephant flying across the street.

Remembering that feat stung his heart a bit, though. Looking at the stump of his left arm, he wondered if he could still throw away such a gigantic object.

"Did I just say something wrong?" Albert asked.

Looking at Albert, Brandon pointed at the remainder of his left arm.

"I see. Sorry for reminding you about that. I was just trying to get a laugh out of you." Albert walked towards the bench further beside Brandon's bed. Sitting down, he added, "But really, you mustn't push yourself so hard. I know how you lost your arm. It was because you kept fighting although you hadn't been receiving any therapy for days."

 _I bet you're telling me to take a few days off._ Brandon cast an angry glare at Albert, a growl escaping through his gritted teeth.

"I'm just wondering if you can do Millennion a favor without putting yourself in danger."

Brandon sighed. As if an uncharismatic undead with a scarred face could draw those moneybags into buying forged paintings and other stuff... Moreover, he hated dealing with graphs and numbers - the breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the businessmen of Millennion.

"You're part of the loan shark department, right? You can run the business during this summer holiday."

"Loan sharks get money only when it's the time to collect debt," Brandon groused. "We've collected them all before the holiday." _And honestly, I hate doing the bookkeeping by myself._

"How about this? You used to be a street thug." Albert grinned. "You should visit the business district and look for some unguarded pockets. You can donate the money to the organization."

If one ever asked why Brandon liked having Albert as his sidekick, he'd say that it was because of Albert's ability to think of brilliant ideas. Being a pickpocket wouldn't earn him a lot of money, but it was quite safe and fitting for him.

He gave Albert a broad smile, which Albert responded with a soft laughter. "You really should smile more often."

Gentle knocks came from the door. "This is Dr. Douglas," a man's voice called.

"We hear you, Doc!" Albert replied. "Come in."

The door creaked open, revealing Douglas with a briefcase in his hand. Anybody who took a closer look at his face could easily conclude that the doctor had something he couldn't get off his chest right now.

Albert didn't seem to notice the sadness within Douglas, but Brandon knew why. His sidekick cared less about those who weren't his superiors.

As Douglas walked in and placed his briefcase on the desk, Albert said, "His bandage is soaked."

Douglas looked at Albert and blinked. "Soaked?"

"He did forty leg lifts earlier."

Douglas turned to Brandon, his jaw dropping in awe. Brandon only sighed; he could do three-hundred leg lifts when both of his lungs worked, so if he had only one good lung, he was supposed to do at least one hundred and fifty lifts.

"It's still a feat, Sir." Douglas approached Brandon, his eyes fixed at the necrolyzer's bandage. "You were also dealing with the pain. Not just the damaged lung." When he arrived at Brandon's bed, he said, "Look at the ceiling for a moment."

Brandon nodded and looked up.

With a finger, Douglas pulled down the lower part of the necrolyzer's eyelid and inspected the exposed region. When he retreated, he asked, "You look rather anemic. Did you receive any transfusion earlier?"

Before Brandon could speak, Albert suggested, "Better ask Boss, Doc. I heard Mr. Brandon was out cold most of the time earlier."

"All right." Douglas returned to his briefcase. "I'd better change his bandage first. I doubt he's comfortable with it."

"Let me help."

Brandon watched Albert push the trolley to the drawers beside Douglas. Together, they loaded the trolley with rubber gloves, gauze pads, rolls of bandage, tubes of antibiotic ointment, bottles of saline solution, and a box of minor surgery set before pushing it back to Brandon's bed.

With his gloves on, Douglas began removing the bandage around Brandon's head. He suddenly gasped. "What has Zach done to you? A little deeper, these stab wounds on your forehead would've killed you or left you comatose for days."

"They were caused by Zach's claws," Albert commented as he poured some saline solution onto a gauze pad. "Without them, Boss wouldn't have paid him one billion yules."

Brandon's eye widened in shock. Then he looked down with a frown. Zach must die for his crimes, but Brandon had quickly blacked out when Zach stabbed him in his injured chest. However, nothing hurt him worse than how Zach used his failure to extort Biscoe.

 _I'm pathetic!_ He hissed, looking up and glaring at Albert. _Useless!_

Stopping their work in surprise, both Albert and Douglas let out a "Sir?"

For a moment, Brandon wondered if asking Albert to spar with him was a good idea. If he ever reopened his wounds during the fight, Biscoe would blame Albert for everything. Moreover, Albert would surely make up hundreds of annoying reasons to keep him at bay.

As he racked his brain for another solution, he looked down and muttered, "Sorry."

"Mind telling us what made you angry all of a sudden?" Albert asked.

Brandon took off his oxygen mask and put it away.

"Put it back on, Sir!" Albert shouted.

"And let my lungs be lazy?" Thousands of invisible needles suddenly punctured Brandon's chest, causing him to wince and grasp the hurting site. Albert rushed towards him and picked up the oxygen mask, but the necrolyzer simply swatted Albert's hand away. "I have to be strong! I have to get the money back for Millennion!"

"Mr. Albert," Douglas began, "leave this to me."

"But-"

"Mr. Brandon, you won't need to wear the mask if you're comfortable without it," Douglas said with a smile. It radiated with gentleness, but Brandon could still feel the sorrow within the doctor. "You may even walk around the basement if you feel like it."

"Doc, are you crazy?"

"Trust me," Douglas reassured. "Now, could you give me a piece of soaked gauze?"

"All right." Albert returned to the trolley and handed Douglas the gauze pad.

* * *

One hour passed. Without the aid of an oxygen mask, the fire and the needles in his chest bothered him more frequently. The fog, which had dissipated when he did the leg lifts, gradually filled his sight again.

Bandage changed and shirt on, Brandon pointed at his prosthetic leg, which lay a few feet away from his bed.

"One moment please." After throwing away the pile of dirty gauze pads and rubber gloves into the trash can, Douglas brought the prosthesis to Brandon. As he helped the necrolyzer put on it, something growled.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" Albert laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't eat much for lunch." He looked at Brandon. "Can I have my dinner now?"

Brandon nodded with a small smile.

"Thanks." Albert turned to Douglas. "Doc, you want something from the cafeteria?"

"No, thanks. I brought something for my dinner."

"Okay." With that, Albert headed to the trailer's exit and pushed the door open. "Well, just call me in case you want some snacks." Then he left.

At the same time, Brandon had donned his prosthetic leg. As he adjusted his bed into an armchair by pushing the buttons on the remote beside the railing, he heard the doctor mutter, "I still can't believe what's happening recently."

Brandon quirked an eyebrow.

"I heard that William has been necrolyzed." Douglas shook his head with a wistful look on his face. "Why would someone do this to a kind man like William? He'll rot to death in a few days."

"Zach was involved. I believe he just wanted to make sure that William couldn't return to Millennion again."

"Why would he go so far then? If he wanted to replace William so badly, he could've just thought of another way."

Brandon replied with nothing, his lips taking a downturn. If he hadn't learned about Zach's involvements, he could just show no mercy to William. Now, what could he do to help the poor necrolyzed doctor? Convincing Biscoe to sustain him? Impossible. Ending his pain? Perhaps that was the best, but he still hadn't forgotten his experience with little Nina. If that poor girl ever saw his axe coming... _No..._

"I wish I could help him, but how? I don't think I can collect enough money to sustain his body, while I can't bring myself to euthanize him."

"Doc, unless Millennion wants him to suffer, I'll give him a painless death."

"Really?"

Brandon nodded. "He's been taking care of me for a long time after all."

"Thank you."

When Douglas smiled, Brandon could no longer feel the grief within the doctor.

As Douglas helped Brandon to his feet, he added, "Do you know? It was William who introduced me to Millennion and necrolyzation. I was really glad, because being part of a mafia organization gave me power."

"Power?"

"You know how corrupt this town is? One won't have the chance to be a specialist doctor unless one is related to somebody important in Billion." Douglas pointed at himself with a thumb. "Like me."

"You still can't be one right now." Brandon limped towards the exit door. "Studying takes time, while Millennion doesn't tolerate members' absence very well."

"Yeah, but my kids can just bring up Millennion's name in the future." When Brandon opened the door, Douglas said, "Let me help you."

Eye fixed at the trailer's ledge, Brandon said, "I can do this by myself." As he struck the lower ground with his fake foot, the sudden surge of pain from his chest knocked him down.

"Sir!"

Brandon looked up, gritting his teeth at the image that flashed across his eye. With an arm wrapped around Mika's limp body, Zach stared down at the necrolyzer. _"You're helpless,"_ he could hear him say.

"Get out of my head!" Brandon roared, getting up despite the searing pain in his chest.

"Calm down!"

The image vanished in an instant. Douglas now stood before him, his eyes full of concern.

"Why were you angry?" the doctor asked.

"I couldn't even get off a ledge without falling!" Brandon snapped. "I'm just that pathetic!"

"It's okay to fall. You should know the obstacles you're facing right now." Douglas pointed at Brandon's chest. "Wounded lung." His finger moved to Brandon's eye. "Anemia... Er, I just remembered that I forgot to ask Boss about the transfusion." He walked past the necrolyzer. "Why don't you walk around the basement as I call him? We'll just meet up at the guard post later."

Brandon nodded, still scowling. He _must_ be strong. For Mika and Millennion.

So he started sprinting around the basement. The first lap refreshed his body, but after another lap, the environment began to shake and blur. His chest, too, burned even worse.

_Like hell I'd succumb to this!_

Brandon continued running, but he collapsed during the fourth lap. As his vision blackened, he could see Douglas approaching with a few basement guards.

A guardsman crouched before him. "He looks so pale. Doc, why did you let him run around the basement?"

The unpleasant tone gave Brandon enough time to say, "It's not his fault. He told me to walk, not run."

* * *

"Brandon."

Brandon's eyelid felt heavy, but knowing the owner of that hoarse voice, he forced his eye open. He found himself in his bed with an oxygen mask attached. Before him, Biscoe stood with a terrified Douglas by his side.

"The guards said he let you run around the basement, while he denied that," he said firmly. "Which one is true?"

A growl escaped through Brandon's gritted teeth. _Those damn guards..._

"You hear me?" Biscoe asked.

"Dr. Douglas only told me to _walk_. I just didn't care."

Biscoe shifted his gaze to Douglas, who nodded frantically. After a moment of silence, he turned to Brandon and yelled, "You bullhead! Always pushing your body beyond its limit!"

"I live to protect," Brandon grumbled. "If I keep slacking off, I'll become weak. Am I still worthy of living if I don't have the strength to protect you all?"

"If you say so..." Biscoe gave Brandon a death glare. "Fine. Tomorrow, the Gatou Underground Fighting Club is hosting a tournament. Make sure you enter that and win the fifty billion yules."

Although Brandon could feel the angry, yet mocking tone in Biscoe's speech, he nodded without arguing back.

"I'll explain the details when you're getting your transfusion tomorrow." Then Biscoe turned to leave. "Whether you'll continue sleeping or abusing your body, it's up to you. I'm sick of this already." He slammed the trailer's door close.

Brandon only sighed. As much as he respected Biscoe, sometimes he couldn't help but think of him as an old fool. Millennion created necrolyzers because they needed protection, nothing else.

"He's just had a bad hair day, Sir," Douglas remarked, "but I've never thought that he would be so angry. Telling you to enter that sickening event is just-"

"An underground fighting club isn't that horrible."

"I heard this tournament is unlike others from that club. This is held for the undead, and you all will fight to death in a ring. The tickets are much more expensive because people just love to watch necrolyzers bleed." Douglas sighed. "Don't you feel like you're reduced to a gamecock?"

Brandon remained silent. Whatever made Gatou Gang held a tourney for the undead, Brandon figured this might just lure Zach or his minions out. William might find the prize money interesting as well.

As long as he could do Millennion a favor, Brandon wouldn't mind being a gamecock.


	15. Delusion and Hallucination

_After five years of waiting and trying, his beloved Emily was finally pregnant. When Zach learned the news from an obstetrician, he could hardly wait for the baby boy to born, much like when he was about to unwrap his birthday presents as a kid. He immediately named the baby "Felix," which meant both "happiness" and "fortunate."_

_Several months later, though, Emily's blood pressure rose dramatically; later on, she even complained about severe stomachache and blurred vision. Zach knew he would soon have to sacrifice Felix to save Emily, yet he decided to consult an obstetrician because he hoped to be proven wrong. Unfortunately, the obstetrician also suggested terminating the pregnancy._

_Like the birthday child he used to be, Zach refused to give up the present. Luckily, Emily also wanted to keep the baby._

_He regretted his decision. Seizures soon claimed Emily's life, forcing the doctors to take little Felix out of her before he died as well. B_ __eing just about six months old_ , the baby had to stay at the neonatal ICU due to underdeveloped lungs._

_Then Zach wondered if he should've sacrificed Felix. That thought always brought tears into his eyes; Felix was a gift he'd been waiting for years, so why should he give him up? However, whenever he tried to convince himself that he had made the right choice, his mind's eye would see a convulsing Emily at the ER._

_He found himself trapped in that vicious loop of thoughts until he found this weird friend._

"Use your knowledge in necrolyzation," _his invisible friend spoke in the voice of his beloved Emily._

_Zach wasn't supposed to have such a friend; if his colleagues ever found out about this, they'd suggest that he went to a psychiatrist. However, why would he try to kill the one who had pulled him out of his misery? If he did more research on necrolyzation, he could surely bring Emily back as a human and save his dying Felix!_

_With his mysterious friend as his guide, he made his to-do list. First, he needed to get some serum - either the standard, refined, or expired one - for himself._

* * *

_Smuggling serum out of Millennion research facility was easier than he had thought. Of course, it was easy because money talked to the workers there; Zach knew it because he, too, didn't earn much despite being a senior researcher there. That damned Biscoe. The mob boss should've chosen him as Brandon's caretaker instead of William; Zach had worked on Necrolyzation Project for a long time and needed money more than William did.  
_

_His shady business didn't come without a price. He soon had to choose between bribing those lab people for serum or pay Felix's medical fee. Whichever he chose, he would eventually fail in his mission.  
_

_His invisible friend then told him,_ "Get rid of William."

_William was close to the boss and Brandon, so Zach believed he'd better approach him with caution. Perhaps he should murder somebody in William's family. He'd send a necrolyze being to do the job, so when Millennion decided to investigate the case, his underling would take the heat._

* * *

_Zach did it. Bernard died in a car accident caused by his hellhound, and he now worked as William's substitute while the doctor took his bereavement leave. However, something began haunting Zach. Millennion would soon investigate the case, learn the truth behind Bernard's death and kill him. If Zach died, he could never restore Emily and save Felix._

_But worst of all, he was actually messing around with someone close to Brandon; when the day of execution came, he would surely face that necrolyzer. Nobody - not even necrolyzers - had lived to tell the tale of Brandon's wrath, as said by most Millennion people.  
_

_Moments passed with him staying at home most of the time, conducting experiments and creating more necrolyzed beings to protect him. He also had stolen an anti-necrolyze rifle for himself, so that he could eliminate his undead underlings whenever they behaved oddly._

_But could he last forever this way?_

"Inject some serum into yourself," _his invisible friend then suggested._

_For the first time in his life, his friend betrayed him. Hurling a chair at the wall, he screamed, "Are you asking me to necrolyze myself? Are you trying to kill me?"_

"Just do it, coward."

_"Shut up!" Zach snatched the bottles and the syringes from his worktable and threw them away. Shattered glass and fluid of various colors lay everywhere on the floor. "I won't die! Not until I restore my dear Emily and Felix!"_

_His outburst drew his hellhounds' attention. Whether they meant malice or not, Zach rushed to his drawer and grabbed his anti-necrolyze rifle. "Trying to kill me? Think again!"_

_His barrage of bullets reduced the incoming hellhounds into immobile hunks of black fur._

"Coward."

_"Shut up!" Zach slammed the humongous rifle onto the open drawer and knocked the fiberglass container off its hinge._

"Be a superior, or die as a pathetic human."

_Zach remembered that product of Necrolyzation Project. Unlike necrolyzers, superiors came from living things and their bodies could generate weapons. Bob, one of Harry's elite bodyguards, could make grenades out of his fat tissues once he became a superior. It also didn't cost much to sustain this species, as it could produce blood cells by itself and eat._

_"Right. These necrolyzed beings won't pose a threat if I'm a superior." Zach walked towards his fiberglass bookshelf. Picking up a small notebook from it, he said, "Thank you, my friend."_

_Using the formula from his senior Dr. Laguna Glock, Zach injected ten vials of refined serum into his body and his hands. He then watched the wonder that unfolded: his knuckles enlarged before lengthening into three bloody blades of bone that tore through his skin._

_He looked at the lone wooden chair beside him. Then he swung his claws swiftly. Gusts of slicing wind reduced the furniture into a pile of chopped wood._

_"This is good enough," he muttered. The blades retracted into his flesh, leaving gaping wounds that quickly shut themselves._

* * *

_A tiny dose of standard serum here, a bigger dose of refined serum there. Countless sickly animals had received his concoction, but none of them came back right. Instead, they grew into monstrosities like a sabertooth cat, a two-tailed giant rat, an acid-spitting dog, and more._

_Luckily, Zach had gained so much power that he could easily shred his failed creations. He spared the acid-spitting dog, though, since this beast knew to behave well unlike the rest of his guinea pigs._

_"You aren't just a perfect guard dog, Sulphur." Zach patted the dog's head. "Your behavior tells me that I can soon find the right concoction if I stick with the formula that creates you." When the beast nodded, Zach added, "You're also pretty smart for a dog."_

* * *

_A day passed without success, and Zach's supplies were running out. Since Sulphur came from a living thing like a superior, it had to eat. The lab workers, too, now demanded more after learning about his position as William's substitute. His claws could make them obedient, but what if they decided to tell Biscoe?_

"Attack Brandon," _his invisible friend told him._

_"What the hell?" he raised his voice. "He's my source of money!"_

"Hurt him."

_So, that was what his friend meant. An injured Brandon would need a medical procedure, which would give him more money. Now, he just needed someone to wound that necrolyzer.  
_

_According to his buddies at the hospital, there was a rumor about William giving an ICU nurse some vials of green liquid - likely the expired serum, since the lab had little use for it and William was too kind to steal something precious. If Zach could time it right, he could turn the necrolyzed Bernard into his ally._

* * *

_Zach met Bernard at the outskirt of Billion, a haven for hobos. As expected, Bernard came back as a disfigured creature: a green-skinned giant with a dent on the right side of his head and a bulge on his stomach. He also sported a pair of pointed ears and a set of jagged teeth, which reminded Zach of the orcs he saw on movies.  
_

_He approached Bernard, who stood amid battered corpses._

_"I know you," Bernard growled, his fists clenched. "Hope you aren't like these humans, Dr. Zach."_

_"What happened?"_

_"These bastards." Bernard seized a corpse by its head. "I tried to be nice to them, but they only attacked me." He paused briefly before suddenly screaming, "Because I'm a monster in their eyes, no matter how kind I am!" He tightened his grip on the skull until it exploded into a mess of blood, brain matter, and bone fragments. "My wife... My kids... They no longer see me as their family just because I look_ _like a monster!"  
_

_"Don't worry. I'm not like them. Now, what are you planning to do?"_

_Bernard slammed his fist onto his palm."I want to get a revenge on my creator. I'll probably teach my wife and kids a lesson as well."_

_"We'll make a great team."_

__Bernard stomped towards Zach, scowling._ "What are you talking about?"_

_"I know who created you. I also have a problem with him."_

_The anger and suspicion on Bernard's face faded into a broad smile. "Really? Tell me!"_

* * *

_Thanks to Bernard, Zach could earn more money by treating all the lacerations on Brandon's body. However, he disliked how Bernard insisted on punishing Nancy. His kid now lived with Brandon and Mika, and if he wished to kidnap her, he'd have to get past Brandon - or even Mika - first. Truth be told, Zach hated Mika and Brandon because they always reminded him of the life he should've had with Felix; if he could kill the little brat, he would gladly do it. But Brandon... Nobody had lived to tell the tale of his wrath._

_When Zach heard that Bernard's necrolyzer had hit Mika in the head, he decided to visit Bernard's mountain villa, his HQ._

_"You know who Mika is?" Zach asked. "She's Brandon's beloved child. The little girl who kept him tame." He crossed his arms over his chest. "We're all doomed."_

_"Dr. Zach, all I want is just teaching my family a lesson. Then I'll kill myself," Bernard spoke in a low, rumbling voice before suddenly yelling, "because it sucks to be a horrid green-skinned giant!" He pointed at his face. "Look at me! I'm a monster!"_

_"You want to die, but I want to live." Zach took a deep breath. "This is where we part, Bernard."_

_"Oh, no, you can't!" Bernard jumped at Zach. A palm to his face knocked him back down. Sitting on the floor, shocked, he shouted, "Guys! Shoot him down!"_

_Zach didn't even smile. Nor did he scream at the incoming hail of anti-necrolyze bullets. The projectiles drilled into his body before popping back out. He glared at the assailants, who still pointed their rifles at him despite quivering like a sick human._

_Crack!_

_Bernard drew his attention with a puny lash of his whip._

_"Try harder," Zach mocked._

_Bernard crept back, trembling. "N-no. What are you?"_

_"I'm superior to humans and necrolyzers." Summoning his claws, Zach walked towards the retreating Bernard. "Yes." As Bernard turned to run, he seized him by the back of his jacket. "I am a superior."_

_"Let me go!"_

_"You haven't accomplished your goal, have you? Let's make a deal."_

_Bernard nodded frantically. "Yes, at least let me live long enough to punish William!"_

_"Sure. I'll leave peacefully, but on one term. You and your men may hurt Brandon, but never kill him. If you forget," he warned, sheathing and unsheathing his claws to let a threatening 'schlikt' echo across the room, "my claws will go wild."_

_"Deal!"_

_Zach released Bernard. "Thank you."_

_On the next day, news of Bernard and his minions falling victim to Brandon's rage spread across Millennion like wildfire._

* * *

Recently, Zach's fear grew. Although Biscoe had given him a lot of resources so that he wouldn't injure Brandon further, he had a feeling that the mob boss would send his men to retrieve everything. It would've been better if he still had Bernard as his first-line defense.

No, he could never trust anybody in this world. Not even his necrolyzers, whom he later slaughtered to prevent potential rebellion. His plentiful resources would attract thieves, while his superior power and knowledge would draw killers into his hideout. Meanwhile, those people - or things - could be anywhere.

Even the idea of artificially brainwashing those necrolyzers wouldn't convince him. Who knew the device would fail and cause a mess, just like fourteen years ago?

He also wouldn't join the tournament hosted by Gatou Gang, even if the prize money would come in handy. Whether it was a trap or not, he believed he'd meet an angry Brandon there. The necrolyzer could even kill him since most of his wounds should've healed by the time the tourney began.

 _"Coward,"_ his invisible friend grumbled.

"I am being careful," Zach muttered.

_"Coward."_

"Better safe than sorry."

_"Coward."_

Zach looked at Sulphur, who sat up to greet him. Behind the dog was a pack of black hounds with spikes protruding from the backs like sawteeth. Zach had spared them from the slaughter, simply because they were animals and could never be more intelligent than he was. Moreover, he could win most animals' hearts by giving them good food such as the shredded remains of his necrolyzers.

 _I believe I need more of them to weaken Brandon._ Turning around, he wagged a finger. "Let's go hunting, Sulphur."

Sulphur yipped while wagging its tail.

"Tell the rest of the pack to guard the cabin."

The dog barked in agreement.

As Zach headed to the exit door, he stopped by his drug fridge and picked up three vials of serum. One of them - his newest concoction - was yellow in color, almost similar to the refined serum. Since he created it by perfecting the formula that created Sulphur and his pack, Zach believed this would produce something magnificent.

With the vials inside his oversized coat pockets and Sulphur behind him, Zach left the cabin.

The faint howl of a wolf echoed across the forest. The surrounding trees sifted the rays of moonlight from above. Zach had lived in this wooden shack since he began his mission of finding the right concoction for his family. Located within the dense forest at the mountainous region of Billion, it might even trouble the greatest tracker in the town.

However, Zach could feel that somebody was watching over him. Perhaps Biscoe had sent his men here. Or maybe Brandon had come to make him pay. Or maybe someone else who wanted to steal his resources and murder him was hiding somewhere nearby.

Leaves rustled in the night breeze as Zach and Sulphur walked past the palisades of trees. The howl of a wolf grew louder and clearer as he went deeper into the woods.

Suddenly, Zach heard distancing footsteps and swishing twigs. When he turned around, he saw a fleeing Sulphur.

"Sulphur?"

A few seconds later, his pet dog returned with a languid rabbit in his jaws. Trails of melting flesh marred its body as beads of blood and Sulphur's saliva streamed down the carcass.

"Just eat it if you want."

Sulphur ran past Zach.

"What an attitude." Zach whirled and summoned his claws. However, he quickly retracted the blades when he saw Sulphur approaching a lonely gray wolf at a clearing. The almost toothless beast limped towards his pet dog, who immediately put the rabbit down.

"I think I know what you're planning." Zach fished the vial of his newest concoction and approached the wolf, who was sniffing at the rabbit. He uncapped the container and poured the yellow liquid on the beast's food. "Try this. It'll make you young and strong again."

After taking a few bites, the wolf pulled back and stood still. Then it unleashed a deafening howl as it slowly rose to two feet and grew taller and bigger. New jagged teeth replaced its old dull ones and sparkled under the moonlight. Broad, long claws, which could level the whole forest in a swipe, ripped out of its hands and feet. Its fur, which used to be sparse and gray, became dense and shiny black.

With its tail wriggling rapidly, Sulphur circled the transforming wolf and let out a few welcoming barks.

The wolf stopped growing after standing a few feet taller than the biggest tree in the woods. Now a muscular, bipedal beast, it spread its arms and howled.

 _Even if it can't defeat Brandon, it can at least weaken him._ He looked at his pet dog. "Sulphur, tell our new friend that it owns this forest. It can eat anything it finds."

Sulphur barked at the colossal werewolf, who then looked down at him, nodded, and picked up the half-eaten rabbit. After tossing it into its mouth, it looked around for a new prey.

For once in a lifetime after the mishap that afflicted his family, Zach finally laughed aloud and joyfully. "Just send your agents over here, Biscoe! My beasts will love such a big feast! And as for you, Brandon, your puny axe and peashooters can't save you from us!"

Harsh creaks resounded as the werewolf's hands rummaged through the cluster of trees. A few seconds later, the beast picked up a familiar figure. Although the man's blonde hair had turned gray and his left arm had gone, Zach recognized him as Dr. William.

"You just enjoy spying on me, don't you?" Zach yelled. "Don't worry. You won't have the chance to report anything to Millennion, let alone kill me."

"Zach! What have you just created?" William asked, now drenched on the saliva that dripped off the werewolf's long, large tongue.

"A countermeasure against spies and assassins." He paused. "Such as you, Millennion people, and especially Brandon."

"Why should I spy on you? I'm just trying to get a good rest after all the mess with Bernard!" William cried out as the werewolf flung him into his gaping maw. "No!"

"Spies and assassins never speak the truth." Zach turned around with a satisfied smile. "Farewell, William. May you rest in peace in a pool of gastric juice."


	16. Motivation

"Rise and shine, Sir!"

Brandon slowly opened his eye at the call. His vision blurred and shook for a moment before steadying. His nose felt weird; something stuffed his nostrils while shooting a steady gust of cool wind into them. Annoyed, he pulled the thing out. A transparent tube that split into two air-spewing prongs on one end now lay on his bandaged hand.

"It's just a nasal cannula."

Brandon flung it away and looked up. Albert stood before him, shrugging.

"My lungs are fine after such a nice rest," he grumbled.

"Well, that was actually why Dr. Douglas replaced your mask with a nasal cannula last night." Albert chuckled. "Anyway, you just slept as soundly with a weaker breathing aid."

Brandon searched for the remote control beside the railing of his bed and pushed the buttons on it. Once the lower third of his bed descended into a leg rest, he stood up. The left side of his chest burned only slightly, which made him smile.

"Sit down, Sir. Just rest some more before Dr. Douglas and Boss come."

Brandon dropped down and began doing push-ups. Albert only sighed.

Fifty push-ups later, sticky sensation crawled across his body as his sweat drenched his bandage and clothes. Although fire now roared in his chest, he could feel the surge of energy that spread across his muscles. He could surely conquer the tourney and kick Zach's ass.

After thirty more, the blaze in his chest erupted into fiery needles that pierced his wounded lung. He groaned and collapsed at the sudden pain.

"Sir!"

He could hear Albert's incoming footsteps, but he simply got up and resumed his exercise. The flame within his chest now transformed into a torching barbed wire that wrapped itself around his lung. Gritting his teeth in exasperation and determination, Brandon pressed on.

"Stop it!" Albert seized him by his sound leg, knocking him down. "You're hurting yourself!"

Brandon looked over his shoulder and gave Albert a peeved glare. If his pesky sidekick thought he could stop a necrolyzer by clinging to a limb of his, then fine; he still had another form of exercise in his training regimen. After rolling to his back, Brandon lifted both his leg and Albert into the air.

"I won't let you go."

"Then I hope you'll make a good ankle weight." Brandon lowered his leg before lifting it again and again. His annoyance shielded his vulnerable lung from the inferno within his chest.

Face white as sheet, Albert finally released his leg. "You're one hell of a mule," he murmured, hobbling towards the metallic bench beside Brandon's armchair.

Brandon resumed his leg lifts, stopping when several knocks came from the trailer's entrance. As he sat up, a flurry of needles punctured his lung and made him wince.

The trailer's door opened with a click and a creak. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Biscoe stepping into the chamber while Albert went to activate the ramp for Douglas and his trolley.

"What are you doing down there, Brandon?" Biscoe asked harshly.

"I did a few push-ups and leg lifts."

Biscoe shrugged. "What a bullhead."

Brandon sighed. Why did everybody view his obstinacy as something bad? He had fought for years and suffered grievous wounds many times, and only through sheer persistence could he live to see this day.

He reached out to his armchair and folded his sound leg. Ignoring the searing and stabbing pain in his chest, he slowly rose, turned, and sat down.

"Well, then, I'm here to tell you more about the tourney." Biscoe approached a swivel chair beside the computer desk and dragged it towards Brandon's seat. Sitting down, he began, "It'll be held like a usual fighting tournament, but the participants will eventually come from us. It's just a bait for Zach."

"I'll attack Zach whenever I see him there?"

"That's the plan," Biscoe said, "because you may just catch Zach unprepared."

"Boss," Albert called while preparing the medical kit with Douglas, "why is Gatou Gang helping us?"

"Because their leader is afraid of having too many necrolyzed beings in the town. The undead can't enjoy drugs like humans do, which will be detrimental to their drug empire."

Albert nodded in his understanding.

Biscoe returned his focus to Brandon. "Also, don't ever settle a foot on the underground fighting club before I say so. Don't worry. I'll keep you updated, especially when there's a new, suspicious participant."

"What if Zach never shows up?" Brandon asked.

"We'll...declare a war with him." Biscoe took a deep breath. "We'll hold his ill son hostage."

Brandon's eye widened. Then he seized Biscoe by his collar and snapped, "There's nothing worse than using a sick child as a-" His grip loosened instantly when Albert rushed to punch him in his chest.

"Sorry," Albert whispered, "but you're talking to Boss. Mind your manners."

Biscoe simply continued, "We have no choice. This is for everybody, including Miss Mika."

Brandon could only look down, his lips trembling. He hated how protecting people always demanded a sacrifice. Uncle Marcus left him because he wanted to keep him safe from Rafael. Brandon himself killed a lot of innocents to protect Harry and Big Daddy. Later, he also had to leave his beloved Maria because his infamy as a hitman might bring vengeful mobs to her. What did those result in? Brandon survived, Harry reached the top, and Big Daddy and Maria lived long enough to bring Mika to the world, but what about the scars that were left behind?

"Even if you don't like it, it has to be done," Biscoe said. "Do you love Miss Mika?"

Brandon nodded.

"People always say, 'Love is full of sacrifices and compromises.' Using a kid as a bait is terrible, but it's not that bad if you're doing it for your family's sake." Biscoe patted Brandon's head. "Remember that."

Brandon raised his head and saw Biscoe's gentle smile, which told him how much the mob boss - one of his family members - trusted and needed him. He believed he didn't deserve that smile if he insisted on opposing Biscoe.

"I think you get it."

Brandon nodded with a smile. "Yes, Sir. Thank you." When the time came, he knew Biscoe's act would sting, but he'd get over it. For his family.

"Mr. Brandon, may I change your bandage?"

Brandon shifted his gaze to the source of the voice. Douglas and Albert stood beside his armchair, gloves on. With a nod, he took off his soaked shirt and tossed it aside.

"Also, I've decided to give you more refined serum to help your lung heal," Biscoe told Brandon. "Those crippling wounds won't do you any good in a fight."

"Did it...cost you a lot?"

Biscoe shook his head. "Did you forget? We looted many crates of refined serum from Bernard's hideout." He paused. "But even if we haven't gotten them for free, I'll still give you that serum. Zach is neither a human nor a necrolyzer."

"He is a superior," Brandon said, recalling how Zach's claws popped out of his knuckles. "I fought this species last year. The bodies of superiors can produce weapons and regenerate quickly."

"So, you know it."

"You still remember how you beat them?" Douglas asked, removing the bandage around Brandon's torso.

"I shot them until they could no longer regenerate, but once Dr. Tokioka crafted anti-superior bullets for me, I could kill them easily."

"Unfortunately, you won't have any anti-superior bullets this time." Biscoe pointed at the carton boxes behind Brandon's armchair. "We couldn't find any documents about superiors' weaknesses there."

Brandon jerked back in surprise. Damn, he should've kept them in a safer place when he first learned that a new doctor would replace William for a while.

"Judging from your current condition, I'm afraid that fighting Zach without anti-superior bullets is very dangerous, Sir." Douglas threw the old bandage into the trash can while eyeing Brandon's chest. Some blood and clear yellow fluid oozed out of the stitched gashes there. "Your wounds still haven't closed properly. Moreover, you'll be fighting one-armed unlike last year."

Brandon stared at Douglas and snarled. "Don't underestimate me. I'll find a way."

"You need to stop being a mule, but I doubt you're listening." Albert sighed, soaking a gauze pad in the bowl of saline solution before handing it to Douglas.

"Really, it's not like Dr. Tokioka's hypothesis about necrolyzer-superior hybrid will come true," Douglas added.

Biscoe raised an eyebrow. "Is that even possible? I heard that only healthy humans can become superiors because they can produce their own blood cells and fulfill superiors' need for blood." He pointed at Brandon. "Meanwhile, this boy can't produce any."

"The humans only need to be _physically_ healthy," Douglas reminded while wiping the blood and fluid off Brandon's wounds. "It's actually easier to superiorize mentally unstable humans. I suppose the same also applies to necrolyzers."

Albert burst out laughing. "That's it. Mr. Brandon can never be a necrolyzer-superior hybrid because he's pretty much a normal person- I mean, necrolyzer."

"Right!" Douglas laughed as well.

Brandon scowled. He had read about that hybrid from Dr. Tokioka's journal, but there wasn't much information about it. The doctor only assumed that a necrolyzer who received a large dose of refined serum over a few days could transform into a superior. Already possessing the enhanced strength of a necrolyzer from the very start, the hybrid could flatten a town with its bare hands. However, it had to finish its job quickly; else the necrolyzer's blood-saving system would force it to revert to its base form.

_I wonder if I can become one. If I'm that strong, I can protect them better. They won't be so worried about me as well._

"Stop laughing, you two!" Biscoe's voice jarred Brandon back to reality. "Brandon, I'm sure that you can beat Zach without becoming that hypothetical hybrid. Just be careful and use your head more often." He paused. "We've also retrieved your trusty Cerberus. You can do it."

* * *

Having nothing to do after the medical treatment, Brandon decided to visit Mika at the hospital. Not only he had promised to see her today; he, too, missed her a lot. Her smile, just like her mother's, always soothed him and brightened his day. It actually delighted him more than the most recent state of his wounds: all of them had healed except the ones on his chest.

As eager as he was, he remained still although Albert had parked their van and turned off the engine. He kept staring at the important items Biscoe had left in the vehicle: Cerberus, Bonehacker, a backup prosthetic leg, a medical kit, and ten vials of refined serum.

"What's wrong?"

"Zach has an ill son," Brandon muttered. "Don't you think that he'll be here to see his child?"

"I doubt it." Albert opened the door and stepped out. "A lot of Millennion men are wandering around the hospital because Miss Mika and Mr. Norton are staying there. If Zach ever shows up, he'll have a few agents tailing him all the way to his hideout."

"He can slaughter them with ease."

"Oh, come on." Albert grinned. "Forget about him for a while and enjoy your time with your little girl."

Brandon gave the valuables a grim look before opening the door. Once he left the van, he took off his greatcoat and covered them with it.

"Um..." Albert's face contorted in an attempt to hide his amusement. "I hope people don't mistake you for a patient. You usually smell like one, but now, you _look_ like one. The bandage around the stump of your left arm doesn't help, even if you just enjoy wearing it."

After slamming the door shut, Brandon began his walk to the hospital lobby with Albert in tow. They first approached the help desk, where a formally-dressed woman stood.

"How can I help you, Sir?"

"Where can we find the VIP B ward?" Albert asked back.

"It's on the eighth floor." The receptionist looked at the right and pointed at the elevator area ahead. "Once you're there, head to the east wing."

"Got it. Thank you, Miss." Albert gave a thumbs-up before walking towards the elevators with Brandon. A group of people stood there, ready to seize the ride for themselves.

"We gotta be fast," Albert suggested, at which Brandon nodded.

They spent a minute waiting for one. Once the door opened, they slipped through the crowd and entered the elevator. Brandon first expected a glare or two from everybody, but they were apparently too focused on scrambling into the lift. Brandon and Albert ended up in the cramped chamber with five more people, one of which was a wheelchair-bound grandpa.

As the old man's companion - a young lady - pushed the "3" button on the wall, she asked Brandon, "Third floor, too?"

Albert quickly said, "No, we're visiting the eighth floor."

The lady and the grandpa only gawked at Brandon. Then they shifted their gaze to the plaque on the wall, which drew Brandon's and Albert's attention.

"'Orthopedics Clinic,'" Albert read one of items in the list below the huge bolded "3." Shrugging, he whispered to Brandon, "See what I say? At least nobody can see that bandaged stump of yours if you wear your coat."

Brandon said nothing, his face an impassive mask. He'd rather be seen as a patient than a necrolyzer.

The amount of passengers diminished as the elevator reached the higher floor. By the time it arrived on the eighth floor, only Brandon and Albert were left.

Brandon stepped out and scanned the hanging sign. Guided by the arrows there, he and Albert headed towards the VIP B ward. It took them a few minutes to finally find a double door with the "VIP B" signboard beside it. Brandon opened the door, and together with Albert, they walked along the narrow hallway in search of room 8 - Mika's ward.

"I heard Mr. Norton's ward is across Miss Mika's," Albert said. "Will you visit him later?"

Brandon nodded, his eye scanning the plaques on the doors surrounding them. His child's ward should be nearby, as his mind's eye could see more and more images of a happy Mika.

A few seconds later, he spotted the door with a big "8" etched on the plaque. With a broad smile, he rushed to knock the door. _  
_

"You just miss her so much, don't you?" Albert asked.

The door soon opened with a click. Harris stood there, looking pleasantly surprised. "It's you, Mr. Brandon! Come in!"

"Brandon?"

Hearing Mika's voice, Brandon dashed past Harris and into the ward. There, Mika immediately hopped off her bed and wrapped her arms around his waist. He returned the hug with a smile, tears slowly gathered in his eye as he saw the bandage around Mika's head. He remembered how a giant hellhound pinned him to the ground and forced him to watch a necrolyzer kidnap Nancy and deliver a solid punch to Mika's skull.

"I miss you so much!" She looked up. "Eh, why are you crying?"

"I..." Tears streamed out of his eye. "I'm sorry. This shouldn't have happened if I had been stronger."

"You are _always_ strong." Mika closed her eyes and rested her head against his abdomen. "I heard that you could still fight although you already took an anti-necrolyze bullet to your lung."

"I am weak," Brandon argued back. "I couldn't even accomplish half of my training regimen now."

"Brandon, people who always beat their enemies are strong," she told him gently, "but they are never as impressive as people who keep fighting despite their handicaps."

"Wow, Miss," Albert chimed in from behind, "you're so wise."

"I learned it from a comic." Mika released her hug. Once Brandon let her go as well, she sat on her bed. "There was a story called _Super Snooper Strikes Again_. In that tale, Donald's nephews always gushed about how strong and cool Super Snooper was. Donald said Super Snooper was nothing special although he could throw asteroids at his enemies, but his nephews disagreed."

"Throwing asteroids at enemies is badass," Harris commented. "How can he be nothing special?"

"Man, you're just as childish as Donald's nephews." Albert snickered. "Anyway, I've ever read that comic and still remember how the story ends. Donald's nephews finally admit how great their uncle is. No, they even believe that Donald is greater than Super Snooper. You know why?" He pointed at Brandon with a thumb. "Just like him, Donald always tries his best to take care of his nephews, although he's never as clever or lucky as his friends and family."

Brushing away his tears with a finger, Brandon recalled what happened to Mika during the assault on the basement. Although she was just a tiny human girl, she jumped at Nancy's kidnapper - a well-built necrolyzer - with a pair of scissors. It was pathetic, but Brandon actually felt proud of his child.

So if Mika brought up about her failure just like he did, he would say the same thing, too. Just to make her feel better.

 _It's still no use if I don't try harder_ , he concluded. _I must find a way to become that hypothetical hybrid._

"Anyway, when will you be discharged, Miss?" Albert asked.

"In three days if everything's good," Harris answered for Mika.

"You know, I've just been here for about two days, but I already miss our trailer." She looked up at Brandon. "How about the case? Have you caught Zach?"

"Huh?" Albert quirked an eyebrow. "You know about that, too?"

"Mr. Harris told me when I asked why Mr. Norton was admitted to the hospital."

Mika's words brought Brandon back to the incident inside the trailer. Zach's claws... They pierced through his wounded lung and knocked him out, stopping his attempt to avenge Norton. After that, the damned doctor used the opportunity to extort Biscoe. He growled at the memories.

Mika paid no attention to that, though. She left her bed once more to hug him. "Brandon, be careful, okay? I can't wait to go home and read comics with you again."

Brandon nodded, swearing to himself that he would finish Zach off and live on. For Mika's sake.


	17. Conflicts

"Miss Mika is amazing." Albert closed the door behind him and Brandon. "She can do something that nobody else can."

Brandon smirked, already knowing what Albert would say next. It always delighted him when someone noticed his child's unique talent and said it out loud.

"Only she can truly brighten your day." He walked towards the room across Mika's ward. "You're always gloomy, but once you see her... Well, let's just say that she's the sunshine in your life."

Brandon nodded with a smile.

"Now, I hope you're ready to face Mr. Norton. He's rarely nice to you." Albert knocked on a wooden door with a "7" carved on its plaque. "By the way, remember to thank him for having your trailer fixed quickly. That'll make him happy at least."

The door opened with a click and revealed a smiling Jeremy - Norton's caretaker. "Come in. Mr. Norton wants to see you, Mr. Brandon."

Brandon entered the ward. A scowling Norton sat still on a lone bed, his glasses off and his left hand connected to an IV line.

"What brings you here?" he asked, sounding quite eager to start a fight.

Brandon only smiled. "Thank you for having my trailer fixed."

"Hmph, it's just because sterile air makes you last longer." He folded his arms over his chest. "Now, let me ask you. Do you think you can defeat Zach, a superior?"

"Yes."

Norton gave Brandon a death glare, a tiger ready to chomp down a deer. Then he launched a fist at Brandon's wounded chest. Eye widening in shock, Brandon parried the blow with a hand.

"You're sharp," Norton commented, pulling back his fist, "but this isn't enough to convince me that you can beat Zach."

"I _can_ do it," Brandon muttered. "I have Cerberus and Bonehacker."

"They aren't helpful. Cerberus? Those guns just peashooters without anti-superior bullets. Bonehacker? It's too slow when compared to Zach's claws."

Norton's words stung like the anti-necrolyze poison in his lung, but Brandon could only remain silent and grit his teeth. Although annoying, Norton was the boss' second-in-command and an injured old man after all.

"Moreover, you aren't as strong as what you used to be." He pointed at the stump of Brandon's left arm. "You'll be fighting one-armed." His index finger moved down to Brandon's legs. "And with a fragile prosthetic leg." He shrugged. "On top of that, your lung hasn't healed."

His patience faltering, Brandon growled, "I can manage."

"That's not all," Norton spoke in a low, rumbling voice. "You know what always saved you when you fought superiors last year? Your regenerative power. Now, you can only recover faster with serum."

"Then load the serum into some syringes!" Brandon snapped, smashing the ceramic floor with a furious stomp. "I'll inject them myself in the fight!"

In the distance, both Albert and Jeremy stopped chatting and looked at Brandon.

Norton smiled. "You're angry? Good." It soon melted into an indifferent look. "Unfortunately, your temper is a complex thing. You need a trigger." He shrugged. "Zach won't be that stupid to provoke you. He kept preaching about 'never make a necrolyzer angry' back then."

Unable to think of something to counter Norton's argument, Brandon only gnashed his teeth in frustration.

Norton looked at the exit door, a wicked smile creeping to his lips. "I guess I'll have to threaten Miss Mika again, just like what I did a while back."

Brandon's eye widened. His heart throbbed fast and hard, threatening to burst out of his chest at any moment. When did that happen? Or did Norton collaborate with the enemies?

"Still remember what happened before you finally decided to be rough on William?" Norton grinned. "Yes, I was the one who thought of sending a necrolyzer to attack Mika at the hospital. That stupid Biscoe didn't really like it, but I convinced him anyway."

Time seemed to stop as unnatural silence engulfed the room. Then Brandon roared and flipped Norton's bed with a kick. The old man fell to the ground along with the IV stand beside him.

"What the hell?" Jeremy latched onto Brandon, who easily broke free of his hold and flung him at the wall.

Brandon looked back to see an unconscious Jeremy. Meanwhile, Albert was nowhere to be found. Shocked, Brandon rushed to Jeremy and shook him. "Wake up," he said, tears welling up in his eye.

"I see. Just like an explosion, your anger will dissipate with time," Norton commented before sighing. "What a letdown. It'd have been better if you tore him apart in a fit of rage."

Brandon got up, whirled, and sprang at Norton. "You don't even care about your men's lives!" With the old man pinned under his weight, Brandon pulled back his arm.

As the necrolyzer's fist came down, Norton smirked. "Don't you respect me? I'm Biscoe's second-in-command."

Brandon's arm trembled, his knuckles resting just a few millimeters away from Norton's nose. He let out a frustrated growl.

A sudden sharp pain shot up from his wounded chest. He screamed in shock, only to take another blow to his old injury.

"Look, even an injured old man can hurt you," Norton mocked, jabbing Brandon's wound again and again. "How are you supposed to beat Zach?"

Roaring, Brandon caught Norton's incoming fist and yanked it. A harsh snap escaped from Norton's shoulder as a painful scream burst out of his mouth.

A thud came from the entrance of the room, stopping Brandon from pulling Norton's arm off. "Brandon!" a girl called out.

He stood up and turned. A worried Mika ran to him and wrapped her tiny arms around his waist. Like a flood, her embrace washed away the raging inferno within his heart.

"It's okay now, Brandon," she said, resting her face against his abdomen. "Don't be angry anymore, okay?"

Smiling slightly, Brandon nodded and patted Mika's head. Albert stood by the entrance of the room, grinning while giving a thumbs-up.

"Just what the hell are you doing, Miss?" Norton grumbled. "He needs to learn about anger. Else he won't stand a chance against Zach."

Mika pulled back and shifted his gaze to Norton. "I regret having come here too early. I should've let him beat you some more."

Brandon looked back at Norton, who sat still on the floor with a limp arm. "No. If you're late, Mr. Norton will lose an arm."

"Brandon, stop being too kind!" Norton snapped. "Don't you know how much potential you have wasted just because of that?"

"Shut up, you old fart!" Mika yelled back. "Brandon is strong because he is kind. He loves us so much that he always tries to be strong for us."

"Whatever you say, little brat," Norton groused. "Brandon, let me tell you one more thing. You can insist on being kind, but if you end up in a serious trouble because of that, blame nobody but your pathetic self. It's _your_ decision after all."

Mika thrashed at that. "I'll knock your teeth off!"

Restraining his furious child with his one-armed embrace, Brandon ran towards the room's exit. Albert helped him open all the doors in his way, and once they arrived at Mika's ward, Brandon stopped to check on his petulant little girl. She was still thrashing and screaming.

"What's wrong with her?" Harris asked.

Albert sighed. "You know, Miss Mika and Mr. Norton. They're like a cat and a dog."

"Calm down, Mika." Brandon smiled. "Think carefully. How is Mr. Norton's room right now?"

Mika became extremely calm and silent all of a sudden. Then she gave Brandon a mischievous smile. "Oh, I get it. You leave him to clean up the mess by himself."

Brandon nodded as he released Mika. He actually planned to help Norton after this, but having told his child such a thing, he'd better leave the old man alone.

"But Mr. Norton is an injured old man," Albert reminded, his voice full of sympathy.

Brandon smile vanished; the snap coming from Norton's dislocated shoulder replayed in his head. He should at least call for help after leaving Mika's ward.

"Just leave him alone! He won't thank Brandon for helping him!" Mika snapped while climbing onto her bed.

"Well, Miss, there's nothing wrong with asking the hospital staff to deal with the mess," Albert calmly said. "As long as Mr. Brandon doesn't meet Mr. Norton face-to-face, I guess there won't be any trouble."

Mika sat still with her arms crossed over her chest. "I hope so."

"Just leave this to us." Albert shifted his gaze to Brandon. "What do you think, Sir? Are we leaving the hospital, too?"

Brandon nodded. Looking at Mika with a small smile, he tried to speak but to no avail.

"You're never good at saying goodbye." Mika grinned, prompting Brandon to give her a hug. "Just be careful out there."

Brandon nodded and let her go. After flashing a broad smile at her, he left the room with Albert in tow.

Outside, they saw three nurses hurrying into Norton's ward.

"What happened?" Albert asked, approaching the nurses. Brandon quirked an eyebrow at the question, but a few seconds later, he realized that his sidekick was hiding the truth to avoid drawing unwanted attention.

"We just got a report that the patient fell from his bed," one of them replied before closing the door.

"I see." Albert stroked his chin. "Hmm, pretty sure that Jeremy was still out cold earlier..." He opened the door slowly and poked his head into the room.

As Brandon crept closer to the door, he could hear Jeremy whisper, "Leave now. Don't let Mr. Norton see Mr. Brandon." Learning that he hadn't hurt the bodyguard badly, Brandon let out a sigh of relief.

Albert scratched his head. "Huh?"

"They are sure to fight again," Jeremy warned. "Now, go."

"All right, bro." Albert pulled back and closed the door gently. "You hear that, Sir? Let's go." As he and Brandon walked along the hallway and towards the elevator area, he asked, "Are we going home or somewhere else?"

Brandon's hand, fast as lightning yet sneaky as a cat, went into Albert's pants pocket and fished a thick leather wallet out of it. "Let's visit the shopping district."

Albert laughed. "You're going shopping?"

"'Shopping' for fat wallets." Brandon waved his loot in front of Albert's eyes. "Such as this one."

"What?" Albert looked at the wallet before hastily reaching for his pants pocket. "When did you steal it? _Why_?"

Brandon smirked, handing the wallet to Albert. "You suggested me to be a pickpocket in my spare time."

"Uh..." Albert kept his wallet, his face contorting in confusion. Then he murmured, "Yes, I did."

* * *

 

At the parking lot, Brandon found a guest near his van. A big black dog sniffed one of its front tires, running away once a security guard prodded its belly with a foot.

"Get lost!" The guardsman chased the dog off. "This ain't a place for a mutt!"

As the mongrel dashed past Brandon, he studied its appearance. It stood shorter than his knee and had a dash of cream fur around its snout. Seeing only plain brown eyes instead of gleaming red ones, he brushed it off as just a stray dog. His gut didn't really agree, though.

Once Brandon arrived at the van, he opened the door and picked up his greatcoat. All of his valuables were still on the back seat, their position unchanged. _Zach never visited the hospital_ , he concluded.

After putting his greatcoat on, he slammed the door shut and headed to the front seat. Once the doors were shut and locked, he sat still with his gaze fixated on the seat belt. Everybody - including Albert - always asked him to put it on, but he never listened. If something ever attacked the van, the restraint would slow him down slightly.

The engine roared, and the van moved. As it went to the security gate, Brandon spotted the dog again. It walked along the pavement while sniffing the air.

"What's the matter, Sir?"

Brandon pointed at the hound. It looked like just a starving mongrel searching for a trash can, but his gut kept telling him to stay alert.

"Ignore it. It's just a stray dog."

With a gulp, Brandon looked away.

"Relax, Sir." Albert pushed a few buttons on the radio and filled the entire van with a mellow tune. "Ah, it's _The Skater's Waltz_ by Émile Waldteufel."

Brandon said nothing.

"Oh, by the way, I'm curious about something," Albert began. "Mr. Norton mentioned that you could regenerate your wounds very quickly without needing serum. Is that true?"

Brandon nodded. "I can't regenerate lost limbs, though."

"I see. But how could you lose that ability?"

"Last year, after Dr. Tokioka's death, I didn't receive any transfusion for more than a week," Brandon replied. "Necrolyzers have a system called 'blood-saving system.' It automatically activates when a necrolyzer is running out of blood, so that the blood cells won't transform and go to close the wounds."

"How can that cause the loss of your regenerative power...forever?"

Brandon looked down in sorrow. "The system is permanent."

"That's too bad." A few seconds later, Albert spoke again, "One more thing. I notice that the necrolyzers you fight can't seem to regenerate their wounds. Why is that?"

"Only the ones that look like overgrown men can have the ability. Also, they must never have any commands implanted in their brains."

"Wh-what? People can brainwash necrolyzers?"

Brandon nodded. "It can only be done before the necrolyzers wake up for the first time. You need a Brain Reprogramming Device for that."

Albert sighed. "Science is such a weird and confusing-" His phone suddenly rang. Picking it up, he began, "Good morning, Boss." A pause. "Right away." Albert handed the phone to Brandon. "Sir, Boss has something important to tell you."

Brandon listened to it. "Good morning."

"Brandon, Mr. Wong told me that there's a new participant. I hope you won't be surprised when I tell you the story." Biscoe cleared his throat. "Just now, a man named Bartel Smith brought a green-skinned girl to the underground fighting club."

Brandon gasped with his eye widening. _No, please don't tell me that it's-_

"The girl's name is Nancy Rutherford."

The phone slipped out of Brandon's hand. For a few seconds, he only sat still and gave the windowpane a vacant stare. Why in the world would someone make a necrolyzed _child_ fight against necrolyzers in an arena? As if children's lives in Billion hadn't been bad enough!

 _Humans..._ His hand balled into a fist as he remembered Nancy's lethargic face. "Damn humans!" he roared, smashing the glove compartment in front of him.

"Sir!"

Brandon gave Albert a death glare. "Take me to Nancy. Now."

"Y-yes," Albert stammered, beads of sweat dribbling down his face. "Boss already g-gave me the address. H-he actually w-wanted you to interrogate Bartel."

Brandon nodded. He couldn't wait to stain his hand with Bartel's blood and brain matter.

* * *

 

The journey took around thirty minutes. Bartel's house was a dilapidated two-story building located at the outskirt of Billion.

With his Cerberus handguns holstered, Brandon walked towards the weathered entrance door. He first thought of kicking it down, but then he remembered Nancy. That would scare the poor girl, who must be living with the darned human inside.

He knocked on the door. As he waited for a response, he mused about his plan. If he could, he really wanted to ask Biscoe to erase Nancy's name from the participants list. Unfortunately, considering how much money Millennion had just lost yesterday, the mob boss would never want to risk his connection with Gatou Gang - his newest source of income - just for someone insignificant.

Brandon eventually decided that he'd better put Nancy out of her misery, hide her body, and lie to Biscoe about her cause of death.

The door opened with a click, revealing a green-skinned girl. Brandon's eye widened; Nancy had grown even taller than Mika!

"Mr. Brandon..." she muttered.

"I told you not to open the door!" Bartel snapped, seizing Nancy by her hair and dragging her back.

 _As if turning a girl into a gamecock isn't enough!_ Brandon drew his handgun and shot Bartel in his arm. The man crumpled to the ground, writhing and screaming in pain.

"I'm so glad to see you again, Mr. Brandon." Nancy wrapped her arms around Brandon and buried her face in his chest. "Can we go home?"

"Shut up!" Bartel yelled.

Brandon's trigger finger twitched, but Nina's last moment suddenly flashed across his eye. Was it right to kill a child, even if it'd end her suffering?

 _Nancy deserves none of this crap,_ he thought _._ Although Nina's cry echoed in his head and brought tears into his eye, Brandon mustered up his courage to do the right thing. Within a split second, he aimed at Nancy's head and pulled the trigger.

As Nancy's limp body collapsed, Bartel wondered out loud, "What the hell?"

Somehow, Brandon no longer felt like crushing Bartel's skull. He calmly walked towards the man, his gun ready. "Tell me how you met her, and why you registered her on that tourney."

"That's none of your business."

Brandon fired at Bartel's right thigh, forcing a painful scream out of his mouth. "Speak up," he demanded.

"I said that's none of your business!"

Brandon gave the gunshot wound a stomp. Fragments of Bartel's broken thighbone burst out of his flesh and sent blood everywhere.

"Help!" Bartel cried out, sweating profusely with tears streaming down his cheeks. "Help me, somebody!"

"You'd better tell me everything. I'll let you go after that."

Bartel whimpered for a moment before saying, "I met this girl in an alley. I first ignored her, but then I remembered about the tourney for necrolyzers. I needed the prize money."

"Then you tricked her into following you."

"Y-yes." Wincing, Bartel looked at the ceiling. "Life in Billion is hard, especially if you're not part of the Mafia. I...just want a better house and eat something good once in a while."

Brandon couldn't help but give Bartel a sympathetic look. "You could've tried another way. Work harder, and don't spend money on unimportant things."

Bartel responded with nothing but groans.

"Do you know Dr. Zach Reinhardt?"

"Who's that?"

 _This man is unrelated to him_ , Brandon concluded. "Nothing." He pointed his gun at Bartel's head.

"B-but," Bartel stuttered, "you said you'd let me go if I talked!"

"I lied," Brandon simply replied. "I can never forgive a man who treats a child as a moneymaking gamecock."

"No!"

Bang.


	18. Loyal Dogs Attack

"What have you done, Sir?" Albert questioned aloud. "Boss won't like this!"

"Let me reason with him," Brandon suggested, still sitting on the floor and staring at Nancy's corpse. Unable to see her bullet-smashed scalp without shedding tears, he covered the body with his greatcoat. "This poor girl doesn't deserve to be a gamecock."

"A child never deserves to be one, but you have to know that her death will affect the tourney." Albert took a deep breath. "Imagine having been hyped up about the fact that a necrolyzed girl will be fighting in the arena... And then the girl just happens to die. It's bad for business."

"Call Mr. Biscoe now," Brandon demanded, reaching out his hand to Albert. Money-minded people always annoyed him; sure, you needed money to live, but did you have to go too far just for that? Couldn't you find a better job that wouldn't involve ruining children's lives?

A few seconds later, Albert handed him the phone. "Just speak. I've dialed the numbers."

"Good afternoon," Brandon muttered.

"Afternoon, Brandon. How did the interrogation go?"

"Bartel didn't know anything about Zach."

"How did he meet Nancy then?"

"He met her in an alley. He first ignored her, but because he needed money and remembered about the tourney, he tricked her into following him."

"So, that's how she ended up being a participant."

"Yeah, but Nancy..." Tears streaming out of his eye, Brandon said, "She's dead."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nancy's dead!" Brandon cried out. "Her body has crumbled to dust!"

"Are you sure?" Biscoe asked with a tinge of suspicion in his voice. "Mr. Wong actually sent me a picture of her during the registration. She still looked fresh this morning."

Having no choice, Brandon finally yelled, "All right! I lied to you! I killed her!"

"Brandon, you..." Biscoe suddenly snapped, "What the hell have you just done? You think Mr. Wong will like this?"

"Can you imagine what you're going to put her through? She'll be fighting against necrolyzers! In an arena! People are buying tickets to see how she gets torn to shreds!"

"Do I have to repeat this for you?" Biscoe calmed down. "Love is full of sacrifices and compromises. I do feel bad for Nancy, but my family always comes first. That's why I'd rather see her fight in the tourney than getting rid of her, offending Mr. Wong and losing a business partner as a result."

Brandon could only growl. Sometimes, he regretted having rejoined Millennion; being part of the Mafia meant he would be living off dirty money. Yet he didn't any choice back then. Millennion had forgiven him for his betrayal and saved his life last year, and most importantly, Mika - his adoptive child - was the rightful heir to the organization.

"I guess you've killed Bartel as well," Biscoe mumbled.

"Yeah."

"All right. Now, stay at the scene to guard the corpses, will you? The clean-up crew will come to take their bodies soon."

"What for?"

"It's the proof of your crime," Biscoe replied. "After presenting it to Mr. Wong, I'll let him think of a fitting punishment for you. I hope he'll forgive us."

Brandon closed his tear-filled eye. "If that's what it takes to save a child from a dark fate and protect Millennion, so be it."

Silence filled the phone for a few seconds. "Well said, Brandon," Biscoe finally muttered before ending the call.

Opening his eye, Brandon returned the phone to Albert and looked at the greatcoat that concealed Nancy's body. After a gulp, he raised his gun and brought it down. Several times, until blood and brain matter drenched his coat.

"Mr. Brandon!" Albert went to seize his arm, but Brandon shook him free almost immediately. "Stop!"

"I have a hunch that Mr. Biscoe wants to do research on her body and revive her," Brandon grumbled as he gave Nancy's smashed skull one last thwack. After holstering his gun, he stood up and walked past Albert. "I can't let him do that."

"Why? Why does a child's life matter so much for you?"

Brandon sat on a couch and slouched against the backrest. He stared vacantly ahead as Rafael's face materialized in his mind. That mobster - rumor said that he had trafficked hundreds of kids and made at least fifty million yules from the ornaments crafted from their parents' bodies - served as a reminder that Billion hardly showed mercy to children. If Marcus had never walked past that dark alley that night... Even having become a powerful necrolyzer, Brandon still refused to imagine what might happen to him if that childhood hero of his hadn't existed.

Now that he had grown even stronger than Marcus, why not put his power in a good use for those unfortunate little ones?

"Why?" Albert asked again.

Brandon only stared at Albert. Someone who grew up with his hale and hearty parents by his side would never understand why.

"It's not like you'll get anything good from that."

His blood boiled like lava in a volcano. Then he erupted; standing up, he picked up the couch and hurled it at Albert. His blonde sidekick dived out of harm's way, but he remained on the ground trembling and sweating.

"B-but Sir," he stammered, "you know why p-people in Billion-"

"Shut up!" Brandon stormed towards Albert and seized him by his collar. "You don't know how it feels to be one of those unlucky children!"

Something just clicked in the mind of his ignorant sidekick, and Albert's eyes widened in shock and horror. "Wh-what? Don't tell me that you-"

"You understand now?" He released Albert from his grip before turning away with his eye growing wet. Whenever someone brought up about it, he couldn't hold back his tears. Marcus did save him from Rafael's goon, but the man eventually had to leave him in an orphanage for his sake. But what was worse? At the age of eighteen, Brandon learned that Rafael visited Marcus not long after the parting and kidnapped him. Once that effing mobster died, Millennion agents raided his house and found Marcus' taxidermied body put on a display inside Rafael's trophy room.

Brandon approached the door silently, but before more of those painful memories flooded him, he heard Albert say, "So, that's why you're so protective towards children." Glancing over his shoulder, he could see his sidekick limp to him with a saggy face. "I'm sorry."

Returning his focus to the door, he nodded. Sometimes, he couldn't help but think that Albert was lucky to work with him; other Millennion higher-ups would've punished him for being too outspoken. As stated by Norton, Brandon's anger wrought havoc and struck fear into people's hearts at first, but it would fade very soon. Just like a typical explosion.

_Knock, knock, knock._

From where they came from, Brandon could determine that the visitor stood shorter than his knee - an unlikely height for a human. Instead of opening the door immediately, he stepped aside and turned the doorknob very slowly.

Once he flung the door open, he drew Cerberus and fired.

"It's the dog we saw at the hospital!" Albert shouted.

Brandon looked down to inspect his victim. The dog stood still, wagging its tail and sticking its tongue out at him. New flesh grew to shut the gaping wound on its forehead and expelled the bullet within. _Zach's newest creation_ , he concluded. He needed Bonehacker to kill the beast, but he couldn't possibly leave Albert alone, could he?

Much to his surprise, the hound turned away and fled. Brandon holstered his gun and ran after it, knowing _who_ the beast might lead him to.

"Sir, be careful! That dog is probably leading you to a trap!"

Brandon already knew that and kept running, but in his heart, he thanked Albert anyway.

Outside, he found himself in a dilemma. He had to grab his axe, but the hound would disappear from his sight if he slowed down, wouldn't it?

Ah, screw it! He stopped by his van and punched through the window. After picking up his axe, he resumed the chase. Oddly enough, the dog seemed to have stood still for some time just to wait for him. This beast would definitely lead him to a _big_ fish.

They passed the desolate street of the outskirt. As Brandon ran along the pavement, he noticed the unfriendly glares from nearby humans. His ears registered curses and incoming footsteps, which he ignored. Necrolyzed beings could easily outsped them after all.

The noise faded a few seconds later; now, he found himself in a place surrounded by abandoned buildings of various heights and dusty street signs. Peeled wall paints and broken glass littered the ground, which he and the beast stepped on without a fuss.

After a few loud barks, the hound halted abruptly and whirled. Brandon blocked the incoming spit with the flat side of his axe. The droplets of clear yellow fluid trickled down his axe and left smoking holes on the concrete beneath.

Suddenly, barks and scampers of many legs echoed from all directions. Black dogs burst out of nearby alleys and buildings, the spikes along their backs sparkling under the sunlight. Brandon looked at them, but only briefly as a barrage of spittle came at him. He protected his prosthetic leg and left his torso open to the acidic projectiles. Fabric and flesh melted away; luckily, adrenaline dulled the pain from his reopened wounds.

The black dogs pounced on him. With these meat shields standing between him and that acid-spitting hound, he only had to focus on these: slaughtering the ones beside and behind him while defending his prosthetic leg. Blood - both his and the beasts' - and chopped flesh flew everywhere.

The hound, instead of spewing acid at the meat shields, howled aloud. Everything darkened all of a sudden, and when Brandon looked up, he saw a colossal foot coming down at him and the black dogs. He launched himself ahead, dodging the stomp that crushed most of the spike-back mutts.

Brandon regained his balance fast, and a swing of his axe ripped the three incoming black dogs in half. With no more spike-back hounds in sight, he observed the _thing_ that helped him. A giant werewolf, standing slightly taller than a five-story building, loomed before him. Its dense black fur swayed in the wind like the rustling foliage within a forest. Each of its claws, wickedly curved while being much bigger than even Brandon himself, could tear down a row of these abandoned houses with ease.

Zach stood on its left shoulder, his claws unsheathed. His face displayed no emotion, yet Brandon could feel the brimming confidence in him.

Brandon could only shudder at the sight and step back. He wasn't ready for this; compared to his foes, he was so underarmed and injured. Although the acid burns, gashes, and reopened wounds barely hurt, the bleeding continued and he didn't know how much more he could take.

No. If this could shake him - a powerful necrolyzer and Millennion's most trusted fighter, then how about the weaker ones who needed his protection?

Zach hopped off the werewolf, ready to impale Brandon's skull. The necrolyzer jumped aside and dodged the concrete-shattering claws. Regaining his composure, he heard incoming footsteps from his right side. The acid-spitting dog rushed to him with its mouth wide open. With Zach coming at him, too, Brandon had to make a decision.

_The dog is coming for my prosthetic leg!_

Guided by his gut, Brandon swung his axe while leaving his left side - the location of his old wounds - open to Zach's claws. The hound dropped dead with its body split in half.

Returning his focus to Zach, he raised and brought his axe down upon his foe's arms. Zach darted away in time, much to Brandon's annoyance. Then a massive palm came down upon them.

As they leaped away from the swatting blow, Zach said, "Stupid werewolf. Do that once again and I'll teach you an unforgettable lesson." His tone sounded flat and plain, yet Brandon sensed anger in it.

The looming shadow of the werewolf retreated.

Zach came at him with his claws ready. Brandon predicted his foe's aim - the head - and parried the incoming claws. A knee to the gut knocked Zach back and stunned him, and Brandon swung his axe. Zach collapsed, bleeding out from the stumps of his legs.

"Come, finish me off," Zach told him.

Brandon wasn't falling for that; he fled once Zach's gushing blood transformed into new bones, muscles, and skin. He needed some time to figure out how to kill Zach - a superior, a creature with superb regenerative capabilities.

The giant werewolf blocked his path. As Brandon evaded its slow, destructive swipe, he thought of an idea. Hiding in the beast's stomach would buy him enough time; even if Zach followed him, their battle within would gravely injure - if not kill - it from the inside.

A humongous palm came, which Brandon dodged with a sidestep. As the bipedal wolf pulled it back, he hopped onto its hand. The beast man, unable to swat him flat as he ran up to its shoulder, barked in annoyance.

 _Yes, keep barking._ Once the werewolf opened its mouth again, Brandon sprang onto it large tongue and jammed his axe into the roof of its mouth. Traveling into and down a pulsating red tube, he dragged his weapon along and bathed himself in the beast's blood.

"Brandon," someone called from beneath, "is that really you?"

Brandon looked down, and his eye widened at the sight. A shallow pool of boiling yellow fluid awaited him, but it didn't surprise him as much as the gray-haired man who stood amid it.

"William!" he called out as he dropped down from the end of the beast's throat. William jumped and seized him with his only arm.

"Let's get out of here quickly." William hoisted Brandon towards the wall of flesh, showing his bleeding, skinless legs as he ran. "We'll be in danger once my regenerative system stops working."

Eye growing wet, Brandon could only grit his teeth at the news. Poor William... To hell with killing Zach; his friend needed help first! Letting out a furious roar, Brandon slashed at the wall - right at the bite marks that William probably created in a desperate attempt to escape - again and again. Blood spurted from the laceration, further staining his already bloodstained body.

A few slashes later, he told William, "Push me into the opening!"

William complied. Brandon squeezed himself through the narrow cleft, and once he saw blue sky and dilapidated buildings, he wormed his way out. As he crashed to the pavement, he found William joining him.

Brandon smiled broadly. He had not only saved his old friend, but also found an ally to help him. William certainly knew how to dispatch a superior easily and efficiently, the knowledge Brandon needed right now.


	19. Fear

Even as a necrolyzer, William took more than enough time to recuperate from the fall. Unlike Brandon, a battle-scarred fighter, he didn't know that one millisecond would make a lot of differences in a fight.

A foot came down. Bonehacker between his teeth, Brandon scooped William up with his only arm and ran. His back deflected the slabs of concrete from the earth-shattering stomp.

After releasing William, Brandon grabbed his axe. "Tell me how to kill Zach and his werewolf." His ears detected incoming footsteps. "Then find a safe place to hide. I'll deal with them."

"Go for the head," William suggested. "Since this werewolf can't regenerate, it'll kill it quickly."

"What about Zach?"

The giant werewolf towered before them. Axe between his teeth, Brandon seized William's hand and jumped aside. The beast's giant palm merely struck the empty ground.

"Also go for the head," William replied. "Brain needs more blood and takes longer to regenerate." Brandon pulled him away from the werewolf's incoming claws. "Otherwise, just rip him apart with Bonehacker. His blood supply will deplete-"

A howl interrupted them. Brandon spotted the looming shadow of the beast and hurled William into the alley ahead. Paying little attention to his now bleeding back, he readied his axe and whirled. The werewolf brought its furry hand down, which Brandon dodged.

_The head. Aim for the head. For everybody's sake.  
_

Brandon braved through the storm of dust and shattered concrete, his teeth gritted and his muscles tensed at the pain radiating from his old wounds. With a graceful leap and a loud battlecry, he got onto the beast's retreating hand.

The beast flung him away to a five-story building. Dang it! This monstrosity was smarter than he thought!

Or perhaps not. The beast actually sent him flying higher than the building itself. Time it right, and he would land on the rooftop - a good position to reach the werewolf's head.

As the dusty ground rose to meet him, he flipped. Cracks formed beneath him upon the landing, telling him that he'd better run before the floor caved in.

The werewolf stormed towards him, leaving behind a trail of debris. Brandon reached the edge of the roof and right before its massive claws tore down the building, he leaped onto its snout and jammed Bonehacker into its forehead multiple times.

The bipedal wolf howled, but Brandon jumped ahead before its hand swatted him. Landing on top of its skull, he brought his axe down again and again. Paralysis traveled down the beast's body, and it finally crashed to the ground.

Brandon jumped off the werewolf's mangled head. Once he landed on the floor, though, pain shot up from his chest. His vision blurred and his legs trembled, yet he managed to stand still by clinging to the thought that Zach was still around.

Breathing lightly and rapidly with Bonehacker in hand, he hobbled ahead. He had to find and dispatch Zach ASAP, but at the same time, he hoped that he wouldn't bump into that man.

_William... Albert... Where are you?_

Damn, what had gotten into his head? He was a necrolyzer, a creature created to protect the weak; he had to be strong for them!

He walked faster, only to trip over a slab of concrete and fell when he reached a junction. His axe slipped out of his hand and landed in the middle of the crossroad.

Light, rapid footsteps came from his right side, urging Brandon to get up faster. His muscles wouldn't cooperate, though.

"Brandon?"

Brandon let out a sigh of relief when he recognized the owner of that gentle voice - William. A vroom echoed behind his old friend.

Upon reaching him, William knelt down. "Hang in there! I've found Albert and he has good news."

Brandon quirked an eyebrow. What good news? Zach was gone? How could a puny human scare off a foe that even terrified him?

The van stopped. After shutting off the engine, Albert walked out of the vehicle with a bag of underpads and a box of latex gloves in his hands. "Don't worry, Sir." He put down the items before going back to the van. "Just relax as we treat your wounds. Boss has also sent some agents to make sure that there's no more Zach's crazy creation around."

"Tell me about Zach now," Brandon said, suddenly wincing as sharp pain shot up from his chest. "You know something about him, don't you?"

Albert chuckled with a first aid kit in his hands. Putting it down, he replied, "He's heading to an empty warehouse by the abandoned docks of Billion."

"What have you done?"

"When I arrived here, I saw two people and a giant werewolf from afar. I thought it might be you finally meeting your prey."

"He then called the boss," William continued. Glove on, he opened the toolbox and loaded a syringe with refined serum. "Mr. Biscoe decided that he'd better call Zach and tell him that he had kidnapped Zach's ill son and wanted to make a deal."

"And he told Zach that he'd send a representative to see him. You'll be the representative." Albert burst out laughing as he put on his gloves. "Zach will be alone and have nowhere to run."

Chill ran down Brandon's spine. It wasn't because Biscoe committed a heinous deed - the mob boss had explained to him about the kidnapping and why it wasn't really a crime; instead, it was because he knew what this move might lead to. If he were in Zach's place, upon realizing that the kidnapper wanted his life to seal the deal, he would run amok at the representative. Although this would put his child's life at risk, he'd rather live to confirm his kid's fate than die without knowing anything about it.

If this truly resulted in an angry Zach, even if Brandon won, he would certainly come out seriously injured with at least one missing limb. He had once fought against an enraged superior; if Dr. Tokioka hadn't delivered the anti-superior bullets to him, he and Mika would have died in a gruesome fashion.

Suddenly, Albert seized his arm and held it up for William. Soothing coolness spread across his body as his necrolyzed friend pushed the needle into his hand. It just felt like lying in the snow shirtless during Winter in Billion. However, unlike a snowy terrain, refined serum made his eyelid unnaturally heavy.

_No. I'm sure that there are still some necrolyzed beings around. William and Albert need my protection._

The serum ultimately triumphed over him.

* * *

_"You killed Bob!" Lee snapped, punching Brandon in the face. "How dare you! He's my best friend, you bastard!"_

_Lee's fists came from left and right, above and below. Teeth and blood flew everywhere._

_Blasted cheater. Brandon would've gladly fought back if Lee hadn't threatened to kill Mika, who was bound to a nearby lamp post. However, even if Brandon resisted, he doubted he could beat Lee in a fistfight; he couldn't truly see any of the incoming fists after all. Perhaps the dim lights in the subway station played a role, but from a more careful observation, Brandon could barely sense any delay between the punches. Also, it actually took a lot to send a necrolyzer's tooth flying._

_A foot struck Brandon in his chest and knocked him back. As Lee approached, his eye widened when he realized that taking a breath became a chore. It felt as though some glassware had just shattered in his chest, puncturing his lungs with their shards._

_"Stop it!" Mika screamed._

_"Those petty blows were nothing!" Lee shouted back. "I'll show you a worse one!"_

_Brandon could only hear a schlikt before a blow sent him crashing to a dormant train. Regaining his composure, he looked down. The giant blade of bone piercing through his stomach pinned him to the train. With Lee turning away instead of advancing, he focused on his missing teeth and broken ribs. His regeneration restored them in a few milliseconds._

_"Watch this, Brandon." Lee slowly rose into the air. When he had hovered high enough, four huge segmented legs tore out of his changsan to support his torso. A bony tail sprouted out of his rear, its pointed end hanging above his head. "I'll cut up your precious child first."_

_Seeing Lee scamper towards Mika, Brandon roared and ripped the blade out of his stomach. He threw it at the insectoid superior, who easily deflected it with a swing of his tail. Damn, what would it take to kill this thing?_

_Lee laughed maniacally as he drew closer and closer to the crying Mika._

* * *

A roar burst out of Brandon's mouth.

Somebody shook him. "Brandon, calm down. It's not real."

Brandon's eye snapped open at William's gentle voice. After his vision regained its stability, he looked around. No more acid burns and gashes on his torso. Clean bandage covered the left side of his chest and the stump of his left arm. In front of him, a big hole surrounded by cracks rested on the windshield. The headrest before him was nowhere to be found.

"I'm glad that I hadn't sat there." William chuckled. "Anyway, do you feel like sharing about your nightmare?"

Brandon only sat still with a frown. Although Lee had long died, he would sometimes come to haunt Brandon. His furious scream, his rage-fueled speed and strength, his advance towards Mika, his blades cutting through Dr. Tokioka... The fight alone had burned just too much terrifying memories into Brandon's brain.

He hadn't had such a nightmare for a long time, though, likely because he hadn't been fighting something dreadful.

"Well, it's up to you whether you want to tell us or not."

Brandon wondered if he could beat Zach without anti-superior bullets. Moreover, he could no longer regenerate his wounds. Norton was right about everything. Unless...

"William," Brandon began, "you ever heard about necrolyzer-superior hybrid?"

"Oh, come on, Sir," Albert commented as he steered the wheel. "It's just a myth."

"Not really," William replied. "Do you know about the blood-saving system?"

"Mr. Brandon did tell me about it earlier today... It's why he could no longer regenerate his wounds. And it's permanent."

"Permanent? I don't think so."

Brandon's eyebrow quirked at William's words. He suddenly had a hunch that if he could deactivate the system, he would transform into that hybrid. But how?

"Because artificially brainwashed necrolyzers can't regenerate, many Millennion scientists believed that blood-saving system is related to the emotional state of a necrolyzer," William explained. "I'm not quite sure about this yet, but... It seems like intense emotion may deactivate the system."

 _Anger._ That word popped up in Brandon's head as memories of Norton and Zach filled his mind. Norton always provoked him whenever he could, while Zach was always against angering him. But so far, he could feel that his rage faded very quickly, just like a typical explosion.

_What if I could hold it longer? Or is there something more intense that will last longer?  
_

Albert's voice jarred him back into reality. "Wait, why did you talk about that system when we started talking about that hybrid? Do you mean that Mr. Brandon will transform if the system is somehow deactivated?"

"Yes," William replied, "but it's still just a theory."

Things felt so close, yet so far. What should Brandon do to achieve that form?

The constant humming of the engine filled the van as nobody talked. Then Brandon saw a hanging street sign with a big white "Old Docks: 3 km ahead" written on it.

Shocked at the realization, he drew Cerberus and pointed the gun at William. "I can't let you join the fight."

Strangely, William only smiled at him. "If you say so, then fine." He pointed at his skinless legs, which no longer bled. "See? My blood-saving system has kicked in. I can't live to see the next sunrise anymore."

Brandon's hand quivered as he remembered how and why he dispatched Nina and Nancy. Those girls never saw his attack coming and the death was quick, but... What did they feel before they died anyway? Did they understand why they had to die?

 _William isn't a kid!_ His finger tightened on the trigger, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shoot. His gun slipped out of his hand a few seconds later, and he cried. Looking at Albert, he yelled, "Go back to the tower! I'll make sure that Millennion will accept William back and restore him!"

"Please, Sir. I've told Boss about William earlier, and he had made it clear that he would never accept William back."

"William helped me!"

"Yeah, but you know how much does it cost to sustain a necrolyzer's body? Also, Boss has just spent-"

"Shut up!" Pain exploded in Brandon's chest, directing his hand to the old wound. "I'll just work even harder to cover it!" He paused to take a breath. "If he still refuses, I'll bring Mika along and let her do the negotiation!"

"Brandon, calm down." William placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder. "Listen to me."

Brushing away his tears with a finger, Brandon looked at the smiling William.

"I'm sure that Mr. Biscoe will change his mind if he finds out that I help you defeat Zach."

"Ah, I just remember something," Albert chimed in. "Mr. Norton said that Zach was always afraid of angering you. I really doubt he'll attack William if you're around."

William pointed at himself with a finger. "Trust me. Everything will end well."

After a gulp, Brandon nodded. What they said made sense, but he couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad would happen to William in the fight.

The droning of the engine filled the van again. After picking up Cerberus and holstering it, Brandon sat still. Heat radiated in his head as he thought hard to find a way to kill Zach while keeping William alive. If he focused on Zach's head, he'd eventually decapitate the superior. With the brain removed, Zach's body would lose its mobility until his head came back, and Brandon could use this momentary paralysis to cleave him to pieces.

The van halted a few minutes later. As Brandon - who had placed Bonehacker between his teeth - and William opened the doors and stepped out, Albert said, "Boss told Zach to wait inside Warehouse 12."

Brandon and William nodded before shutting the doors. The sky rumbled, the thick gray clouds there moving to conceal the sun. The ocean waves rolled and crashed against the wooden pillars of the docks as strong wind blew against Brandon's and William's faces.

Brandon and William traveled down the stone-floored shore, their gazed fixed on the huge numbers painted on the warehouses. With the buildings positioned in a neat row, they took less than three minutes to find Warehouse 12. Seeing the steel doors wide open, Brandon rushed into the warehouse with Bonehacker in hand.

Zach stood in the distance, his face showing no emotion just like usual. As Brandon approached him slowly, he said, "You're the representative?"

Stopping in his tracks, Brandon nodded. His legs wanted to tremble, but he resisted the urge.

"How much do you want?"

After mustering up his courage, Brandon roared and charged.

Rage broke into Zach's face. Unsheathing his claws, he snapped, "If it's my life you want, then go to hell! At least if I'm alive and you bastards decide to kill my son, I can still find a way to bring him back as a human!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just in case you don't know what a changsan is, it's the male equivalent of qipao, a Chinese clothing.


	20. Raging Heat

Brandon's axe crashed into Zach's crossed claws. With their weapons grinding against each other, Brandon launched a knee at Zach, only to slam it onto the superior's incoming knee. The collision broke their struggle.

Regaining his composure, Brandon charged again. Seeing Zach's incoming claws, though, he went defensive. Zach struck the flat side of Bonehacker. With so much force that the axe smacked Brandon in the face instead. Blood gushed out of his nostrils.

_Keep your cool. Focus on the fight._

Brandon's body and arm moved in accordance with Zach's incoming claws. He didn't even know how the hell he could dodge and block most of the rapid, nigh-invisible slashes, but as long as he could live, so be it!

But how could he go offensive then? Zach's attacks came relentlessly, carving more and more gashes on his torso as the seconds passed. The bandage around his old wounds had peeled away and disappeared as well. Sooner or later, the blood loss would overwhelm him.

"Coward," Zach spat, still swinging his claws wildly. "Hit me already."

Brandon remained defensive. After a few more clashes, Zach vanished from his sight. Brandon's eye widened in shock as his heart pounded even faster.

Guided by his gut, Brandon looked up. Zach descended from the ceiling, his arms and claws fully extended.

Brandon dived out of harm's way, readying Bonehacker once he stood in a safe distance. As soon as Zach's blades plunged into the ground, Brandon brought his axe down.

A cackling laughter echoed as Zach - like a professional yoga practitioner - clamped his feet on the blade of Bonehacker. With a swing of his legs, he sent Brandon crashing into the wall.

Brandon's vision stabilized, and he saw Zach running at him. He prepared himself for defense, only to find out that he had lost Bonehacker. With a gulp and a shaky hand, he drew one of the Cerberus guns and fired at Zach.

The bullets plinked off the superior's claws. Screaming in horror, Brandon fired again and again and watched Zach deflect all the projectiles. His ammo ran out in a few seconds, and he threw the gun at Zach. The superior deflected it with a swipe, further instilling terror in his heart.

His primal instinct told him to _run_. He should save this fight for later, when he had grown stronger and smarter.

Brandon got up and fled, silently praying for William or even Albert to help him. During his run, though, something struck his lower back, pierced through his abs, and numbed his legs. As he collapsed, he heard a sickening squish as three bloody blades retracted from his belly.

"Hold it!"

Brandon sat up to see William wrap his arm around Zach's neck. He couldn't help but smile at his friend's interference.

"Shoot him in the head!"

Just as Brandon drew the other Cerberus, Zach elbowed William in the gut and hurled him away. Before he turned, though, Brandon gave him a few headshots. Bullets popped out of the wounds as new flesh grew to seal them shut.

"You two..." Zach leaped into the air to dodge William's advance. "Get lost, William!" He landed a few meters away from them. As William rushed to him again, he jumped up high and raised his clawed arms. He spun rapidly like a talented ballerina before diving towards Brandon, a drill head ready to destroy the crippled necrolyzer.

Brandon fired his Cerberus at Zach, whose spinning form went through the barrage of bullets. He tossed the gun at him, but it ricocheted off the drill head. Brandon closed his eye in desperation and focused on his legs, hoping to regain control of them so that he could run, but it didn't work.

"Brandon."

He opened his eye, which widened instantly when he found William standing in front of him. Reaching out his hand, he shouted, "Don't!"

"You must live." With a smile, William turned to face the incoming Zach. "Remember, my friend. Many people still need your protection." And he jumped.

"William!" Brandon screamed, tears streaming out of his eye.

His old friend's agonized cry resounded across the warehouse as the drill head struck him.

With a gaping mouth, Brandon looked at William's slowly disintegrating body. This couldn't be! He had promised to bring William back to Millennion, so that they could continue living together. Since the first time they met last year, he had always loved William's gentleness whenever the doctor visited him, treated his wounds and provided him with transfusions.

But now, William was gone.

 _"Blame nobody but your pathetic self,"_ Norton's voice echoed in his head.

All of a sudden, everything flashed before his eye. The dead Nancy and Nina, the slaughtered Millennion agents and scientists, the injured Mika and Norton and-

"Enough!" Brandon clenched his fist and stood up. "Dr. Zach Reinhardt!" His roar - loud and bestial as though it came from the Hell Guardian Cerberus himself - blew off Zach's spinning form and the entire warehouse. The cratered ground beneath him rumbled and cracked.

Dust and debris rose into the air along with his tears as jagged, flame-like aura of crimson radiated from his body. His wounds regenerated. Veins bulged across his swelling muscles. A moment later, silver extensions grew out of the stumps of his lost limbs before taking the form of an arm and a leg.

Something whirred behind him. Brandon whirled and punched, his silver fist colliding with Zach's spinning form. The superior stopped in his tracks, and Brandon kicked him up into the air.

With a big leap, Brandon caught up with Zach. As he cupped his hands together and reeled back, the superior regained composure and drove his claws into Brandon's unprotected chest. Brandon merely stared down at his foe before hammering his fists into Zach's head. The force ripped the superior's arms off his shoulders and sent the body crashing to the ground.

What was this oddly nice feeling? He took a closer look at the severed arms, and the weird pleasuring sensation traveled across his body once more.

Brandon dropped down with a wicked grin. His wounds regenerated in a blink of an eye once he pulled the clawed arms out of his torso and discarded them. Although he knew that a gush of his overflowing energy - his newfound power - would roast Zach with ease, he wanted to _play_ with the superior first.

Approaching Zach's sprawled figure, Brandon assumed a poker face and pulled back a fist. His knuckles hung just a few centimeters away from Zach's eyes as his stomach landed on the superior's soles. Zach's outstretched legs flexed with the recoil before they flung Brandon away.

Brandon flipped to his feet and charged at the rising Zach. Their knuckles met, and the bones within Zach's arm rattled. Within a split second, Brandon punched the superior in the gut, grabbed him by his broken arm, and slammed him to the ground. Then he stomped down.

Zach caught his silver foot before it landed on his face, though. A roar - filled with fear and desperation more than anything else - burst out of his mouth as he threw Brandon away.

Hmm, fear and desperation formed a nice music that gave the same pleasant feeling as well. Why not make it more? Brandon nearly grinned at the idea, but he resisted the urge; after all, a hidden plan would surprise and scare Zach even more.

Brandon flipped to his feet and wagged a finger at the superior.

"Damn you!" Zach stood up and charged, a furious storm of blades ripping through the air. "You cocky bastard! William will never like the monster he created with his sacrifice!"

"Like I care." Brandon ducked and swayed, dodging every slash and stab Zach launched at him. Bored with his puny foe, Brandon let Zach cut off his silver arm before giving the superior a jaw-shattering uppercut with his good hand.

As Zach tumbled with a bloody mouth, Brandon reached out the stump of his silver arm. A hand with a thumbs-down grew out of it.

Brows furrowed and broken jaw restored, Zach yelled, "Your pride will bite you in the butt very soon!" He got up and sprang at Brandon again.

Staring down at Zach, Brandon sidestepped and beheaded the superior with a chop to the back of his neck. He kicked the body away before it struck the ground.

As he slowly walked towards the recuperating Zach, he could hear the superior say, "I give up."

Brandon kept walking.

Zach stood up and raised his hands, his eyes teary. "Let's just end this peacefully. Let me go and I'll stop bothering you and Millennion."

Brandon pressed on. As genuine as Zach sounded and looked, Brandon didn't feel like ending the fun so soon.

"Brandon, I know you're a good man in your heart. Please, all I want is just living a happy life with my family. That's why I've been trying to-"

Brandon cut him off with a punch to the gut. "To hell with that!" He hunched a bit and readied his fists.

Left, right, left, right. Blood, saliva, and teeth flew out of Zach's mouth each time a hook landed. When Brandon had grown bored with thrashing Zach this way, he sent the superior flying with a straight to the chest. He would never forget the lovely tune coming from Zach's shattering ribs when his blow landed.

_Time for more!_

He ran after Zach, only to lose control of his right leg and fall a few meters later. His aura dimmed. The bulging veins across his body vanished as his muscles slowly shrank.

Closing his eye, Brandon focused on his right leg. A few seconds later, he regained control and got up. He opened his eye, which widened at the cracks spreading across his silver limbs. Terror filled his heart again. And regret. He shouldn't have spent so much time toying with Zach.

But he couldn't help it; whenever Zach bled or screamed, whenever the superior's bones rattled like shaken maracas, some kind of pleasing sensation just surged across his body... Damn, what had gotten into him earlier? Poor, poor William. His old friend had wasted his life for a foolish, selfish guy like him!

Tap, tap, tap... Swish!

Brandon blocked Zach's incoming claws in the nick of time. His silver arm disintegrated on impact, and it never grew back. His eye widened in horror, but he shrugged off his fear upon seeing Zach's storm of swinging blades. Reflexes and instinct guided his footwork.

Then Zach startled him with a spit into the eye and slashed down. Brandon's silver leg broke off, bringing tears into his eye as he realized the danger he was in.

_William, please forgive me._

As he dropped to his knees, Zach crouched and plunged his claws into his chest. "Feeling scared? Stupid? Serves you right!"

Darkness crept into Brandon's vision as he struggled to breathe. He threw a straight in desperation, which - much to his relief - sent Zach hurtling away and freed his lungs from the superior's blades.

With his vision regaining some light and color, Brandon flexed his fingers and pulled back his hand. His dim aura gradually faded as glowing threads of red energy swirled before his palm. The radiant strands merged into an orb that grew bigger and bigger with each passing second.

_I'm giving my all!_

Hearing an incoming whoosh, Brandon roared and thrust his hand. A huge wave of crimson energy gushed forth and engulfed Zach's spinning form.

"No!" Zach screamed as he crumbled to dust. "My family...needs...me..."

The surge died out, and Brandon collapsed with a smile.

* * *

Fluid rushed into his body as he lay on a flat, yet cold and comfortable surface. His eye fluttered open, only to close again a few seconds later.

"He's waking up?"

His eye snapped open at the hoarse voice. It belonged to Biscoe, who stood between Albert and Douglas.

"Welcome back!" Albert greeted with a grin.

Brandon sat up and inspected the surroundings. Metallic walls. Computers. An IV line that connected his hand to a blood bag on the IV stand.

He had arrived at home. Safely.

"You were out cold for a few hours, Sir," Douglas told him, giving him a concerned look. "Uh, actually, you looked like you were about to die earlier. You didn't have even a drop of blood in your body."

"Was it because of my transformation?"

Douglas nodded. "Unlike standard superiors, this hybrid can't produce its own blood. You were relying only on your blood-saving system, which activated later than expected."

"That was one of my reasons why I commanded the scientists to never do any research on the blood-saving system," Biscoe commented. "Last year, your stunted regeneration sparked William's interest. He then brought up the topics about blood-saving system and necrolyzer's emotional state in the lab and caused a buzz. People there also started discussing Dr. Tokioka's hypothetical necrolyzer-superior hybrid."

_William..._

Suddenly, the image of the disintegrating William flashed across his mind's eye. Something flared up and exploded within him, and he seized Biscoe by his collar. "Why didn't you support this research?" Tears welled in his eye. "If you had done so, I'd have learned how to transform into a necrolyzer-superior hybrid before this fight!" He shook Biscoe; not even Albert's and Douglas' interfering hands bothered him. "And William wouldn't have died!"

"Okay, I admit it." Biscoe looked down. "It was my fault. Considering the danger of this form, I thought it wouldn't be worth the risk. I kept wondering, 'How would the unstable nature of superior affect Brandon's psyche? What if he wouldn't revert? What if he ran out of blood?'"

"Why did you think so?" Brandon snapped, shaking Biscoe again. "Look at me! I reverted! And I _lived_!"

"Because..." Biscoe took a deep breath. "I was afraid that Miss Mika might lose her beloved daddy."

Brandon's grip loosened. _Mika..._ He brushed away his tears with a finger. _It was all for her sake._

"I'm not Norton, a man who cares more about the organization than the people in it," Biscoe added with a long face. "Even when I have to be strict for Millennion's sake, I'll end up bringing the members into consideration more often than not." He turned to leave the trailer. "Anyway, I suggest that you rest up today, Brandon. Tomorrow will be a tough day."

Brandon knew what Biscoe meant with that. Whatever the Gatou boss would do to him tomorrow, he wouldn't care. It was just a small price he had to pay to protect Nancy.


	21. Aftermath

"Eh, don't worry about what Boss has in his mind right now." Albert grinned. "Let's talk about your necrolyzer-superior hybrid form."

"Mr. Albert made me a quick sketch of that form." Douglas flipped through the pages of his notepad. "You looked..." He hid his mouth behind his forearm to hold back a laugh. "Yeah, you looked different."

"You're wondering how I know your appearance although I never interfered with your fight?" Albert grinned. "I stood at a safe distance with binoculars. You know, I didn't want Zach to use me against you, but I just wanted to enjoy the show."

Brandon smirked. Albert and Douglas always tried hard to cheer him up, just like Mika. However, their actions lacked the unique charm Mika had. Perhaps it was because of the difference in their closeness: Mika was his beloved child, while Albert and Douglas were just his friends.

Somehow, the breeze from the trailer's air conditioners became warmer with these two humans joking around. Even Brandon had nearly forgotten about the discomfort coming from the crimson IV line connected to his bandaged hand.

A few seconds later, Douglas showed his note to Brandon. "Here it is."

The picture missed some details such as his huge muscles and bulging veins, but he spotted an oddity in his hair; it stood on one end like a bonfire. Face contorting in amusement, he scratched his cheek with a finger.

Douglas pulled back the notepad and pointed at Albert, who immediately exclaimed, "That's really you, Sir! Trust my eyes and binoculars!"

"Sure, but I just look funny with this hairstyle." Brandon grinned. "Like a comic character."

"It doesn't make you less cool. You know what? You _toasted_ Zach!"

Silence enveloped the trailer as Brandon's happy face melted into a frown and prompted others to do the same. He remembered the outrageous selfishness that overwhelmed him as a necrolyzer-superior hybrid, an insult against William's sacrifice. If Zach hadn't stopped to mock him, or if that desperate punch hadn't knocked Zach away, Brandon would've died.

"Did I remind you of something?" Albert suddenly asked.

 _You did._ Brandon closed his eye and took a deep breath. After exhaling, he opened his eye and looked at Douglas. "Doc, could you explain," he uttered, wincing at the pain from the memory of his appalling behavior, "the weird pleasant feeling I got as I tortured Zach?"

"Yes, but may I know why you asked this?"

"I want to learn how to stop it, so that I can handle the hybrid form better in the future."

Douglas nodded. "Well, everyone has something called brain reward system-"

"Please spare us the details, Doc," Albert quipped. "I remember sleeping through brain stuff lesson at school."

Brandon nodded in agreement; if a refined man like Albert couldn't even understand, how about him, a brutish necrolyzer who could even fall asleep while reading an elementary science book?

"I know," Douglas replied calmly. "Well, there is also the hormone called dopamine-"

"I said spare us the details!"

"I'm not even done speaking, Sir." Douglas chuckled. "We'll just call dopamine 'pleasure hormone.' It's pretty simple, right?"

Albert and Brandon nodded.

"Brain reward system is why various addictions exist. When given the right stimulus, the system will produce the pleasure hormone. In superior's case, violence provokes it."

"Addicted to violence." Albert sniggered. "Well, I presume getting over it is like overcoming drug addiction?"

"Problem is that we have yet to know if necrolyzers can voluntarily transform into the hybrid form. For now, it's safe to assume that they can't, so they'll always be in a fight when they do."

Brandon rubbed his forehead, inviting the last moments of the battle into his brain. _Fear_ , he recalled. It filled his mind right when his aura dimmed and his muscles shrank, waking up his instinct to survive.

He couldn't possibly wait until that happened in every single fight.

"Then how can I stop it?" he wondered out loud.

"The most important in overcoming an addiction is," Douglas replied, pointing at Brandon, " _yourself_. In your case, think about how your addiction will affect Miss Mika and everybody else. Swear to yourself that you'll stop it for their sake."

Chin resting on his bandaged hand, Brandon nodded with a smile. Now, if only he could give it a try-

A light smack to his forearm cut him off. Then Albert said, "The transfusion is still going on."

"Yes, at least try it after the transfusion," Douglas added. "Though whatever you do, you can't possibly transform for now. Boss didn't order me to give you any refined serum."

Brandon snorted in annoyance at the reminder _._ Biscoe had his reasons to not give him any of that glimmering golden liquid: it cost too much, Brandon sustained no real injury, and nobody knew how harmful that hybrid form could be to Brandon himself everybody else.

However, Brandon also had his reasons why he deserved that serum: it would let him learn to control that form better. Heck, he might even learn how to transform voluntarily. Which organization wouldn't want a nigh-invincible warrior to fight for them?

He'd better visit Biscoe after this.

"So," Brandon began, pointing at the almost empty bag of blood on the IV stand, "how long will this take?"

"Around five minutes, Sir," Douglas answered. "Anyway, no need to ask Boss for refined serum. He already made it clear that he wouldn't give any."

_Yes, yes, I know, but there's nothing wrong with trying._

Albert noticed the peeved look on Brandon's face and shrugged. "What a bullhead."

Five minutes passed in silence. With nobody speaking, the air conditioners began spewing chilly gusts of wind. A drop in the trailer temperature always motivated Brandon to do some exercises, but right now, unable to move due to Douglas removing his transfusion set, the coldness just made him yawn.

Sleeping? Brandon grunted and gritted his teeth. He didn't want any shut-eye before he talked to Biscoe.

Now free from the IV line, Brandon scanned his surroundings for his prosthetic leg. He spotted it standing and leaning against the trailer's desk, a position he couldn't reach with just his hand. "Bring my prosthesis here," he demanded.

"Heading to Boss' office after this?" Albert stood still, prompting Brandon to glare daggers at him. "You can just call him anyway."

"I believe it's easier to change his mind by talking face-to-face."

Albert shrugged and sighed. "Okay."

With Albert's and Douglas' help, it took just a few moments for Brandon to don his artificial leg. Then he got off his bed and headed to the trailer's exit. Door opened, he bade his buddies a goodbye with a mere wave of his hand.

Outside, he paused momentarily at small number of cars across the parking basement. The wind, despite coming from just the big ceiling fan at the elevator area, felt colder - almost comparable to the refreshing breeze outside the building at night. For how many hours had he been resting in the trailer?

No, forget about it. The last time he took a peek at the trailer's clock, it was already 5:45, while Biscoe usually went home at 6PM. He rushed towards the elevator, paying no attention to the guards' greetings.

Ding!

_Lucky me._

The shiny metallic doors slid open. Brandon and a guardsman stepped into the little chamber, and the guard quickly pressed the "L" button on the wall. Brandon gave the human an "okay" hand sign.

"You wanna fetch some newspaper at the lobby? I heard you haven't done it recently."

Brandon shook his head. "I have something else to do."

"Mhm."

"I do plan to grab some on my way back."

The elevator stopped and dinged. Then the doors opened, revealing another set of elevators that stood across his current position. A Millennion man had to use one of them to reach Biscoe's office.

Stepping out and crossing to the other set of elevators, he glanced at his right. A few guardsmen and cleaning service staffers roamed the lobby, their reflections visible on the massive marble pillars. The sparkling tiles, made from the same material as the pillars, also mirrored their walking figures. Biscoe really knew how to make Millennion HQ look as grand as its status in the town.

Upon seeing his own appearance at the makeshift mirrors, Brandon averted his gaze and quickly pushed the "Up" button on the wall between the lifts. An undead in just a plain white t-shirt and shorts would only taint the elegance of the lobby. His long, unkempt hair wouldn't help either.

After about a minute of waiting, he heard a sharp ting. The elevator doors slid open, and he entered it. It took just a few seconds to reach the twenty-fifth floor, his destination.

This level, unlike others, had very few agents - those handpicked by Biscoe for having blood ties to either his or Norton's family - patrolling it. However, security cameras lay scattered across the ceiling; if you had the guts to commit a crime here, the surveillance room would get a picture of your appearance in all direction. They had invisible ears, too.

Brandon flashed a smile at the elite guardsmen as he walked along the hallway, his eye searching for a timber door with a plaque that had "Millennion's Chairman and Assistant" carved on it. He found his target about a minute later.

As he placed his thumb on the fingerprint scanner on the wall and waited for a beep of confirmation, he recalled what had caused Biscoe to start this security system. _"I don't like having insignificant underlings in my office,"_ the mob boss told him a while back. _"You can't really trust everybody in the Mafia."_

Brandon could easily list who could easily enter this room other than him: Biscoe, Norton, those elite guards, Mika, and - he winced at the name - William. Sometimes, Brandon couldn't help but compare the access to this office to a precious trophy because it just showed how much the vigilant boss trusted these special people.

A click followed the beep. After knocking on the door three times - a gesture to show some respect to the boss, Brandon pushed it open and went into the room.

"Cremate the body and throw the ashes into the sea by the old docks," Biscoe spoke to the phone as he sat at his large mahogany desk. "Let the boy reunite with his dad."

Brandon's jaw dropped. The old docks. The boy and his dad. _Zach's son_. Tears welled in Brandon's eye as he closed the door and slowly approached Biscoe. What had the old mob boss done? He also sounded so plain, as though the boy didn't really matter to him...

Did he kill the poor soul?

"I believe you figured it out," Biscoe suddenly said. "Yes, Zach's son finally passed."

The mob boss' casual tone had a tinge of sadness in it, but the overwhelming apathy set Brandon off. "You bastard!" He stormed towards Biscoe, seized him by his collar and lifted him up. "You killed a sick baby, didn't you?"

"We did it for his sake, Brandon," Biscoe reasoned. "This boy isn't recovering anytime soon and has nowhere to go, so we removed his life support."

Brandon shook Biscoe. Hard. "You should've contacted Zach's relatives!"

"They couldn't afford to take care of him."

 _Mercy kill._ Brandon's grip loosened. He had done that twice recently, to the two little girls he knew so well. Vision blurred by the overflowing tears, he murmured, "I understand." His chest burned with every word he uttered.

"Although Zach had caused us a lot of problems, I respect him." Biscoe placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder, his eyes glassy. "At the very end, he's much like you: a father who is willing to go to great lengths for his child. I discovered it when I called him to talk about his kidnapped son." He took a deep breath. "It was unusual for a careful man like him to not ask a lot about the ransom, but I guess...he just couldn't think straight after getting the news."

Biscoe's words only started another fire in Brandon's chest instead of putting off the existing one. He had become the monster he hated; that frigging Rafael, his childhood killer, would be proud of him. Although he used to be a hitman who murdered a lot of parents and ruined children's lives, this time, the kill hit him harder since he now had a child to take care of.

"You did the right thing, Brandon," Biscoe said softly. "If you let Zach go, there's no telling what he'd do next. Sure, he was restrained by his child, but what if his delusional life goal proved to be impossible?"

Brandon wiped away his tears. "Delusional life goal?"

"Perfecting necrolyzation so that it's capable of bringing the dead back as a human. I believe he already knew that there was no hope for his little boy."

Silence shrouded the office as the chilling wind from the air conditioners slowly extinguished the fire within Brandon's chest. Then he turned to leave.

"Wait, Brandon," Biscoe called. "I'm sure that you came here not to talk about Zach and his son."

"Forget about it." It wasn't like he could convince Biscoe to give him some refined serum now.

Brandon retraced his steps to his trailer, not caring about the newspaper or the curious guardsmen. Not even Albert and Douglas, who tailed him all the way to his home, earned his attention.

They eventually left, much to his joy.

After closing the door, Brandon sat on his armchair, pushed the buttons on the remote control beside him, and turned the seat into a bed. _Mika..._ He lay on his side and curled himself up into a fetal position. Where was his child when he needed her?

Brandon closed his eye, hoping to sleep the night away soon. At least, nobody had brought up about Will- No, he should stop bringing up that name himself if he wished for a good slumber tonight. He had to save his strength for tomorrow, although he was sure that Wong's punishment wouldn't hurt this much.


	22. Into the Forest

An energetic tune made its way into Brandon's eardrums. _Whose phone is that?_ he wondered, sitting up with a half-closed eye.

The music stopped. Abruptly. "Sorry, Sir."

Brandon recognized the light, gentle voice. Opening his eye, he twisted his neck to gaze at the speaker. Amid the sheer gray, he saw a blurry mix of tan, brown, and a lot of white. Douglas in his lab coat, no doubt.

"Boss told me to stay the night here," Douglas said, sitting still on the steel bench, "and wake up early in the morning so that I can help you prepare yourself for today."

 _Prepare yourself for today._ Brandon's eye widened, and his vision stabilized. Yes, today he would see what Wong had planned for him. To shoo away the remaining drowsiness, he pressed the buttons on the remote control attached to the side of his bed and turned his sleeping sanctuary into an armchair.

"You're feeling better already?"

Brandon nodded slightly, recalling what happened yesterday. Zach's son. If he hadn't killed Zach, the baby might still have the chance to live. Or perhaps the little boy would die and then return as a human; as impossible as Zach's life goal sounded, with the burning passion and love of a father, he might make it come true.

"Glad to know that." Douglas smiled. "Albert told me that whenever you forgot to take off your prosthesis before sleeping, it meant you got a lot in your mind."

 _Albert learned it from Mika._ Brandon smirked, his gaze falling to the stump of his right leg. Everybody in Millennion would soon learn to read him like an open book because of her, but for sure, none could ever be as special as his little girl. _Because her ability feels so natural._

"I bet you miss doing morning workout."

The smile on Brandon's face grew even wider. Now that his lung had healed, he would gladly do hundreds of push-ups and various other workouts at once. He took off his shirt and flung it away.

"Though you probably won't have enough time for everything. Boss needs you in about one and a half hour."

Brandon's big smile melted into a frown. Douglas should've woken him up earlier, but he chose not to argue since it would only waste more of his precious time.

He got up from his armchair and dropped down. With his arm supporting his body like a pillar, he began the push-ups. His heart pounded fast. Beads of sweat dribbled down his body. However, his lungs no longer blazed, which made him clench his teeth in joy.

_This is life._

One hundred push-ups later, he balled his hand into a fist. Back when he was still a human, his friends would yell at him for doing knuckle push-ups due to the risk of hurting his hand. Then Brandon would stop the exercise, although he might do it again when nobody was noticing. Now that his hand ran the risk of harming the floor, anybody who warned him about the danger would only earn a glare from him as he went on with the workout.

After two hundred knuckle push-ups, Brandon lay down and rolled to his back. Leg flexed and placed on his armchair, he started the ab crunches. No painful, burning lungs. Just harder, faster heartbeat and more sweat. Sometimes, the moisture would prick his eye and force him to stop for a while.

 _But it's part of my routine._ Scrutinizing his muscular thighs, he reminisced how he gained the body that many men dreamed of.

Necrolyzation serum had increased his height at the start of his undead life and, with the help of a rigorous training regime, given him a ripped physique. He was in peak condition when he died, but the serum chipped away at the last stubborn fat he did not bother to take off simply for vanity's sake. He leaned out while retaining the muscular mass, his body sporting washboard abs, gorgeously shaped delts, hams and calves. Nothing screamed steroids to an onlooker. He was a lean humanoid workhorse, perfectly suited for intimidating some stubborn humans, overpowering the rampaging undead, and caring for a young child.

Sometimes he wondered if he could earn extra money by being a model for fitness magazines. Sadly, humans outside the organization would quickly deny his application upon finding out that he was an undead man. And those gunshot and surgical scars... Imagine how the famous David statue would look with holes and cracks on all over his artfully sculpted torso.

Suddenly, rubber screeched against metal. Brandon halted and looked up to see Douglas push a wheelchair towards him. Darn, the doctor sure knew how to ruin his mood. Just seeing the mobile chair made him feel like a helpless grandpa.

His furrowing brow brought a chuckle out of Douglas's throat. "I'm so sorry, but you should take a bath now. Boss is coming anytime soon."

Having no choice, Brandon stood up with Douglas' assistance and sat on his wheelchair. Then he quickly wheeled himself towards the bathroom.

"Um, won't it be tough to take a bath with just one arm? I can lend a hand if you want."

Brandon entered the bathroom and slammed the door shut. Actually, there was nothing wrong with asking for Douglas' help; he was a doctor and people's private parts weren't alien for him. However, Brandon had just known him for several days. Who in the hell would want to take a bath with a stranger around, even if said stranger intended to help?

"Mr. Brandon!" Douglas called from behind the metallic door while knocking on it. "You forgot your clean clothes and towel!"

Growling in annoyance, Brandon whirled and opened the door. After taking the forgotten items, he uttered an almost inaudible "thank you" and closed the door. Then he stripped off the rest of his clothing and went into the shower room, in which a plastic stool stood.

Whenever Brandon took a bath without someone's aid, he'd roll his eye at the idea of scrubbing the soapy sponge against his only arm. Using his teeth as a substitute for his lost hand always resulted in getting some soap water in his mouth. He wasn't supposed to feel icky because he had dead taste buds, but still.

At least he'd learned to brush his teeth only after showering in the morning. Rinsing his mouth with fresh water comforted him.

He wheeled out of the bathroom after putting on his clothes - his favorite white t-shirt and pair of black pants. As he headed back to his armchair, he put his towel back on the rack and tossed his worn stuff into the bin of grimy apparels on his way.

"You look even better," Douglas said, helping him move to his metallic recliner. "Taking a bath is refreshing, isn't it? It helps you focus more."

Brandon nodded. Indeed, he now noticed Douglas' puffy eyes. His heart suddenly ached, and a lump formed in his throat. "William, is it?"

A surge of relief flooded him. Perhaps it was the time to confide about William.

Douglas' lips trembled. Then he looked down and began quietly, "How did he...die?" He sure took his sweet time trying to utter that dreadful three-lettered word.

The air conditioners whirred harder and louder as though they were drill heads, the object that demolished William. Stronger, colder gusts of wind escaped from the condensers.

"Zach killed him, but... He died for me," Brandon replied. "No." He remembered the overwhelming rage and grief that transformed him into the frightening necrolyzer-superior hybrid. "For us."

"'Us?'"

"Actually, William could've dragged me away from Zach's attack, but he decided to take the fatal blow." A pause. "It's like he already foresaw my transformation."

"I see." Douglas looked up, revealing his tear-filled eyes. "So, I guess we can say that he died happy." He smiled. "Because he already knew that his sacrifice would help you greatly."

His chest suddenly felt very light, as though a gale had blown away all the burden in it. Brandon shifted his gaze to the ceiling, wondering if he would see William and the rest of his family up in the sky out there. Including Bernard; for some reason, Brandon's hatred against him had subsided.

Perhaps it was because Mika was recovering well and all of Bernard's necrolyzed victims had died in peace.

"Sir," Douglas called, drawing Brandon's attention, "are you curious about why William matters so much to me?"

Brandon nodded. It seemed like Douglas had known William for a long time and was a very close friend of him, but oddly enough, William rarely mentioned Douglas whenever he talked to Brandon.

"He was the only supervisor to care about me during my residency at Billion General Hospital. Others saw me as just an indigent who somehow got a scholarship for a med school." Douglas took a deep breath. "You know, I didn't even have the money to buy those thick med textbooks. I tried searching for free ebooks on the Internet, but I rarely got anything good."

"Then how did you keep up with your study?"

"I relied on the library and some good friends. Also, William often borrowed me-"

Several knocks from the trailer's entrance cut him off. Douglas went to open the door and welcome the guest: Biscoe.

"So, how are you doing, Brandon?" the mob boss asked as he approached Brandon.

"I'm fine."

"Good." Something whirred behind Biscoe, prompting him to glance over his shoulder. Douglas was pushing a swivel chair towards him.

"For you, Boss."

"Thank you." Once Biscoe sat down, he continued, "Okay, I'll save Mr. Wong's issue for later because there's a more pressing matter."

Brandon quirked an eyebrow.

"Last night, Albert told me about the possible location of Zach's hideout. It's inside a forest at the mountainous region of Billion."

"How did he know?"

"He learned it from William, who met Zach's giant werewolf there."

"Excuse me, Boss," Douglas chimed in. "Mr. Brandon will be investigating the forest with the Anti-Necrolyze squad then?"

"Yes."

"I just want to say that..." Douglas cleared his throat. "Well, since the werewolf had an active digestive tract, it could take a dump. Its excrement might contain some metabolized serum and create something crazy in the forest."

"Like treants?"

Brandon gritted his teeth and grunted. Why couldn't necrolyzation serum boost his brain a bit, or at least make him more eager to study? He didn't even know what that weird term meant, though from how it sounded, perhaps it had something to do with trees.

Biscoe and Douglas turned to him and laughed softly. Damn, he should learn how to hide his feelings better.

"Come on," Biscoe said, "you're not that stupid. Knowing you, I believe you can define 'treants' by yourself."

"Tree. Ents." Brandon snorted. "Tree stuff."

"See? You're pretty smart." Biscoe gave a thumbs-up. "Treants are tree people. They're often found in fantasy novels, movies, and video games."

Somewhat proud of his intelligence, Brandon smirked. He never had any interest in those stuff after all. Novels? Walls of text always lulled him to sleep. Movies? Whenever it came to TV shows, everything depended on Mika, who loved cartoons like _Tom and Jerry_ and _Looney Tunes_. Video games? Brandon knew that his limited money had a better place to go.

"Just in case you see an unfriendly treant, drain its sap," Douglas explained. "Sap is basically the blood in trees. It transports nutrients just like blood, the most important thing in every single necrolyzed and superiorized being."

"Oh, I've also brought something for you." Biscoe pointed at the stump of Brandon's right leg. "A new, stronger prosthesis."

* * *

While inside the van, a smiling Brandon kept flexing his new prosthetic leg. Biscoe had ordered his scientists to craft it from the werewolf's bones and reinforce the whole thing with alloy. Tough as his massive axe Bonehacker, it would help him subdue his monstrous adversaries and enable him to do more strenuous activities like squats with his two-ton barbell in hand.

It took about two hours to arrive at the mountains. Three armored trucks, surrounded by dozens of men in helmets and body armors with anti-necrolyze rifles, lay before a cluster of fallen trees - a good place to start the exploration. That giant werewolf must've caused the mess.

Once Albert parked the van near the trucks and turned it off, Brandon opened the door and stepped out of it. His eye widened at the sight of one blonde man, the only person amid the crowd who wore neither a helmet nor a body armor.

He was Oswald Briggs, the man who commanded the organization's Anti-Necrolyze gunmen to shoot Brandon down for protecting his guilty friend Harry. Rumor said that Oswald even argued with Biscoe when the mob boss commanded him to spare Brandon out of Mika's wish.

Although Brandon rarely met Oswald face-to-face, he had a hunch that the man still didn't like him. Oswald's unpleasant stare at him proved it.

"You?" Oswald began bitterly. "You once turned against us. According to Millennion's law, you were supposed to die, but Boss bent the rule and spared you."

"Quit it, Oswald," Albert - now equipped with a bulky backpack - spoke from beside Brandon. "If you're a good man of Millennion, you should work together with him. Not digging up the old conflict."

"You know the old saying? 'Betrayal hurts someone for a lifetime.'" Oswald pointed at Brandon. "I can't trust the man who once betrayed the organization. Especially a necrolyzer."

 _Betrayal... Betrayal..._ Gritting his teeth, Brandon looked down with his eye screwed shut and his fist clenched. His knuckles would love to rattle a jaw if Oswald went on with that story.

"Once again, quit it, bro," Albert grumbled. "You know what? You're lucky to have a friendly necrolyzer around. You don't have to worry so much in case these undead things get out of hand."

"Yeah, right. Now, lead the way." A long pause. " _Sir._ "

Oswald's tone reeked of resentment, but Brandon would care less as long as the man stopped talking about the past. He approached the forest's entrance and observed the felled trees. They formed a trail, a very helpful guide to find Zach's hideout.

Leaves rustled in the breeze. Dried twigs and foliage swished and creaked beneath their shoes as they went deeper into the partly-deforested woods. Having so many men to protect in this perilous journey, Brandon kept his ears perked up and eye wide open as he walked.

"Something is off, Sir," Albert suddenly warned. "I hear no chirping birds. I couldn't find any little critters wandering around either."

Brandon nodded, slowing down his pace for a more careful observation. When it came to exploring the wilderness, one could never go wrong with Albert, an outdoor enthusiast.

A discordant mixture of harsh crashes and screeches pierced Brandon's ears all of a sudden. The cacophony came from further ahead, telling him to halt.

"Stop!" Brandon yelled. "Albert, binoculars!"

"Yes, Sir!"

Brandon snatched the instrument from Albert's hand and checked the commotion ahead.

Gargantuan ants.

And a scampering tree.


	23. Wild Wild Woods

Brandon returned the binoculars to Albert and readied Bonehacker. "Stay here. I'll take a closer look and deal with them." His comrades protested with frowns, which he ignored as he rushed to the commotion.

Hiding behind a massive tree, he observed the culprits of the discordant orchestra and winced in disgust. Had ants always been ridiculously hairy? With a pair of scissor-like appendages near their mouths? And the eyes... They just looked like some oversized black balls with neatly-positioned little bumps on the surface.

Standing surrounded by the huge hairy insects was a humongous four-legged tree with ramified roots as its toes. It might lack a face and arm-like structures, but the plentiful leaves at the top - its hair - made it look quite human. Much better than those creepy crawlies.

_Better study their fighting style._

"It's really a treant," someone whispered to Brandon. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Albert. Oswald's men stood further behind him.

"Stand still and watch," Brandon grumbled.

The treant's toes went into the soil, rattling the dried twigs and leaves on the ground as they searched for their targets from beneath. Brandon would definitely pay attention at the trails later in the fight, not charging recklessly like these dumb ants.

Swish!

Wooden stakes shot up from the earth and pierced through the ants. The skewered insects wiggled helplessly for a few seconds before the stakes retracted. The treant had a heart?

No! Just as the six-legged monstrosities plummeted, the skewers shot back up. And went down. And rose again. And down. And up. Again and again until clear greenish fluid and motionless ants stained the terrain radially. The stretchy roots retracted afterwards.

Brandon grimaced, wondering how the woods would smell right now. Though from Albert's pale face and act of cupping a hand over his mouth, he thought he'd be better off without any functional olfactory nerves.

"I'll skip today's lunch and dinner," Albert mumbled. "Insect blood makes me sick."

Brandon nodded and stared at the silent treant's feet. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty toes. And it was just the forelegs.

 _The treant has a retractable spike trap around it_ , Brandon thought. He could perhaps jump over it, but the roots would then chase him until they turned him into shish kebab. Even if he made it to the leafy area, how long could he stay up there to hack off the stout branches?

His gaze dropped down, and the sight of his holstered Cerberus handguns gave him an idea. He then looked back and stared at the anti-necrolyze rifles wielded by Oswald's men. The big bullets packed a punch although their poison probably wouldn't work on a tree.

Brandon placed his axe between his teeth, stepped out of his hideout and motioned Oswald's men to ready their weapons.

Gunshots echoed. Bullets drilled into the stout trunk, only to come back out a few seconds later. Wounds regenerating rapidly, the treant ran towards him and his comrades.

Brandon shifted his aim to treant's hair while retreating along with his friends. Leafy boughs crashed to the detritus-ridden soil, but the incoming tree grew them back each time it lost a branch.

"I think we gotta set the treant on fire," Albert suggested. Brandon stared at him, at which he added, "I know. Your body resists fire quite well, but wood burns more easily than flesh. Anyway, lead the treant outta here so that we won't end up burning down the forest."

Brandon nodded. _Good idea._

The treant suddenly halted. Brandon shifted his gaze to the ground and noticed the moving bulges on the soil. They shuffled through the crispy foliage and towards him.

Gun holstered, Brandon seized Albert by his hand and scurried. Five timber skewers shot up and struck nothing.

Albert let out a sigh of relief. "That was close."

Running with Albert in his grip, Brandon looked back. No signs of the treant. Oswald and his men were catching up with them, with Oswald yelling, "Just what the hell are you doing, Sir? We've lost three men to that crazy tree, you know?"

Brandon gnashed his teeth against his axe. He expected it, but what could he do? He lacked the stuff to kill the treant on the spot. Then he only had one arm, which he had used to save Albert.

No, he had to move on. Else he could neither avenge the dead nor stop the treant from killing even more.

After a few minutes of running, he let Albert go and took Bonehacker from his mouth. As they rushed to the forest's exit, he asked Albert, "Do we have some gasoline? And a lighter?"

"Just the lighter, Sir." Albert glanced over his shoulder. "Oswald, you got gas?"

"There are a few cans inside the trucks."

Once Brandon spotted their vehicles, he headed to his van and put his axe on its roof. Then he stripped himself to his waist and put his clothes away. From his experience, a brief contact with fire would only leave some rashes - or at most blisters - on his skin.

"Leave one truck here," Brandon commanded. "Switch it on and uncap the fuel filler."

Handing a lighter to Brandon, Albert quirked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Just to make sure that the treant is dead. After that, _run_."

As Brandon pocketed the lighter, Oswald came to him with a fuel can in his hands. The man said nothing, but from his glare, Brandon could tell that Oswald wanted him to get burned badly.

Some people just couldn't forgive and forget.

Brandon grabbed the gas fuel can and hopped onto the truck's roof. Standing still, he surveyed the entrance to the forest. A silhouette of a four-legged tree drew closer and closer.

Engines roared. Brandon's truck trembled, while the other two fled from the scene along with his van. The further they went, the better, because he couldn't afford to lose more Millennion agents. Oswald's prattling would annoy him, but it wouldn't pain him as much as failing to protect the ones who needed his protection.

Once the treant stepped on the asphalt road, Brandon leaped at it. Twigs and leaves pelted the earth as he plummeted into the mini forest and landed on a stout bough.

The treant shook frantically, wooden stakes shooting up and down around it. Brandon grinned at the panicked treant as he poured the gasoline across its head. After throwing away the empty container, he took out his lighter and flicked it.

Whoosh!

Flame spread across the treetop within a split-second. The treant rocked even harder; unexpectedly, the skewers retracted and never appeared again. Victory was in sight.

Brandon snapped off a burning branch and jumped away from the inferno, his body covered in sweat and painless rashes. Landing on the truck's roof, he waggled the makeshift torch at the treant and whistled.

The stupid treant took the bait. Smirking, Brandon hopped off the roof and jammed the burning branch into the uncapped fuel filler. The truck blew up with a deafening boom, its shockwave sending him flying across the road.

Upon landing, Brandon sat up and observed the product of his stunt. Thick black smoke rose into the sky. The torching treant toppled together with the blazing vehicle and remained still.

Something tickled and heated the left side of his thigh. Looking down, he found fire on his pants. A few smacks killed the flame.

He caught a glimpse of his burned hand; it was red and slightly swollen with a few blisters. As he went to take a closer look at the wounds, an incoming vroom distracted him. His van halted and shut down beside him, and Albert came out of it with a first aid kit.

"Let me apply some standard serum on your hand." Albert sat down beside him and opened the box. After putting on a pair of rubber gloves, he picked up a vial of serum and a piece of gauze.

Coolness traveled across his wounded arm as Albert wiped it with the serum-soaked gauze. The intact blisters shrunk, while the burst ones stopped discharging clear fluid and blood. Only rashes, peeling skin, and crater-like scars remained.

"This is enough," Brandon said. "Bandage me and save the serum for later."

"If you say so, all right."

As Brandon waited for Albert to finish bandaging his arm and body, he saw Oswald and his men walking towards the blaze. They surrounded it and - except Oswald - watched the raging fire in glee.

Fully bandaged, Brandon stood up, retrieved Bonehacker from his van, and approached Oswald and his men.

Oswald turned to him, straight-faced. "You could've thought of something better. Three men. One truck. A pricey victory."

"There wasn't much time for him to figure out something else," Albert suddenly spoke from behind Brandon and tapped his shoulder. "At least we killed the treant, right?"

"Well, I'll have a few men gather some parts of the treant and the giant ants for the lab." Oswald pointed at the forest. "Now, lead us into the forest again, Sir."

Guided by Oswald's grumbling about three dead agents, Brandon retraced his steps to where they first saw the treant. Finding the men's mangled bodies meant he was on the right track, although he had to look away quickly. He might have resolved to move on, but the corpses shoved him back by spawning the question, _"Isn't there a better way?"_ _  
_

Albert gave him the push to go on. "You did your best, Sir."

Brandon nodded, a small smile creeping to his lips.

Few good trees existed in the forest, which let the sunlight pour down upon everybody. Brandon couldn't imagine how uncomfortable it would be without the serum-coated bandage; his rashes would probably feel like heating pads minus the refreshing vibes.

"What a guy!" Albert complained, looking left and right at the felled trees and fresh carcasses. "Zach, the forest did nothing wrong!"

Brandon snickered. Aside from knowing a lot about the forest, Albert could also crack a joke about it.

As they walked, Brandon heard a whimper coming from his right side. It sounded like something out of an injured puppy's mouth.

Brandon ran towards the source of the noise, bringing with him the rest of his entourage. A mound of dead wolves with several missing body parts lay there, its peak shaking. Brandon swept away the carcasses on the top and found a crying wolf pup lying on its side.

Upon seeing him, the little beast wagged its forelegs - a pair of bloody stumps. Brandon suspected that the giant ants had cut them off with their "scissors."

"Poor pup is badly hurt, but..." Albert shook his head. "It has nowhere to go with missing legs."

_Nowhere to go._

Brandon could only think of ending the pup's life, but his hand quivered. Death wasn't always the answer, was it? Yesterday, had he spared Nancy, the girl might still have the chance to live a decent life with him. He had once decided against the idea of mercy kill actually, hoping to give William that one chance, but William died before Brandon could even bring him back to Millennion.

Brandon tightened his grip in his axe, as though he wanted to crush the handle to bits. His first and second attempt of helping the hopeless - which both happened in the same day - had failed miserably. This was the third try, and whatever it took, he'd make it successful.

"You want to help it?" Albert asked. "I don't think it's possible."

"I'll find a way," Brandon replied. Zach's hideout must have a lot of refined serum; he knew it. This would result in a superiorized wolf while superiors were infamous for their battle-hungry nature, but what if his attempt created a friendly one?

"Stop wasting time here!" Oswald barked. "If you want to help it, just put it out of its misery!"

"I'm bringing it with me." Brandon put his axe between his teeth and scooped up the injured pup.

Everybody gasped. Then a scowling Oswald stomped towards him. "Leave it be, you idiot! Or just kill it!"

"Watch your mouth, bro," Albert scolded. "Mr. Brandon is our leader in this search."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I didn't pull out my gun and shoot that pup dead."

Teeth grinding against the handle of his axe, Brandon strode past Oswald. _Likewise, you being a Millennion man is why you haven't lost your head yet._

The investigation continued with Brandon as the lead. He gazed left and right to anticipate unwanted guests, but occasionally, he'd look at the pup to tell it that he cared for it.

The pup seemed to understand his gestures. Hope now glimmered in its once hopeless eyes.

A wooden lodge loomed in the distance. Brandon ran to it and kicked the door down. Stepping into the building, he grunted at the very little luminescence. Good thing they came here in the afternoon, when the sunlight could enter the lodge via the windows.

The shelves and crates in the cabin drew his attention. But first, he'd have to free his hand.

Brandon sprinted towards a table and put his axe and the pup down. Then he hasted to a shelf, where two test tube racks lay on each level. His eye scanned the label on the vials and the color of the fluid they contained; once he found the one containing golden fluid and the "Refined Serum" label, he snatched the whole rack and returned to the table.

Behind him, Albert spoke, "Mr. Brandon, what are you-"

"I'm saving this pup's life." Brandon picked up the vial of refined serum from the rack. "Whatever it becomes, I'll deal with it."

After uncapping the vial, Brandon gently pushed it into the pup's open mouth. As the little beast slurped the fluid like a thirsty baby, blood gushed out of the stumps of its limbs and transformed into new bones, muscles, and furred skin.

Once the pup had finished drinking, it stood up and jumped at Brandon.

"Sir!" Albert shouted.

"Give it a chance," Brandon replied, smiling at the pup. It now stood on his shoulder.


End file.
